The Married Club

It all started a few years back when one girlfriend congratulated another girlfriend on her upcoming nuptials by saying 'I'm glad to have another member in the married club'.

I am sure she didn't mean it to sound quite so, well, sorority girl meets bridezilla.  In fact I know she didn't.  But it definitely got me to thinking about the fact that there is a 'married club'.

My friends all now read this blog so of course I have to be careful - and most of them are members of the 'oh so elite' married club.  But just know that I love you all and that you make me feel like a true honorary member.  By making me be a bridesmaid.  HA!

Anyways, there is a club.  There is no matching t-shirt with cool slogan (I was in a sorority and we did have those) or pendant.  But there is a ring (everyone's is unique of course), there is a signing initiation (the registry and the ceremony), and there is this definite sense that members of the club are privy to something the rest of us un-smug-marrieds are not.

It's weird and it always surprises me.  Girls that I least expected to be true active members of the 'club' do in fact shift to the side of slightly 'better than thou' status.  The thing is, I don't think they do it on purpose.  

I am sure it is that euphoria of the newly wededdness that makes them appear as if the answer to world peace is to simply have a wedding.  Middle East?  War in Iraq?  You would all be sooooo much better off if you just wore some ivory and did a chicken dance.

I definitely don't want this particular entry to seem bitchy/catty/jealous/bitter.  I'm just pointing out the fact that my most well-intended brides do cross that invisible barrier between the married woman and the eternal fear of being a spinster.  It's like those girls who know they can eat cheesecake for breakfast everyday and not gain an ounce.  Something about their inner-confidence regarding (a) being single or (b) cellulite - they know they don't ever have to deal with those issues EVER AGAIN.

I am fairly certain that I act like I am in the 'sucks to be single' club.  The one that listens as my single friends lament the lack of available bachelors while I sit knowing I have a loyal man waiting for me at home (or Brooklyn).  The 'I totally empathize but thank goodness I got myself a man' club.  

It's just interesting as we climb the ladder of life and move from one rung to another we watch those ahead and behind us with the musings of 'thank heavens I am not there' or 'I wish I was on that rung' each thinking we are better off where we are.

But I swear, if I hear the 'you're next' or 'do you think he'll propose soon' one more time, I might smack someone.  I haven't been invited to join your club yet, so shut it.  

Meh, I have the 'I am in a major motion picture starring some of Hollywood's hottest men' club membership.  I think that buys me some time . . . 

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