People I know are getting married, MARRIED, and I can’t even find a date. Jennifer keeps offering, but I was hoping for a man. The problem is, you don’t want to bring just anyone to a wedding. As the maid of honor, I’ll have duties; he’ll have to be cool about being abandoned. And I’ll apologize too often about abandoning him, so he’ll have to deal with that too. And he can’t want to dance the whole time, or not dance the whole time. He’ll have to have a tux and not tell me where it came from because we really don’t care. And he has to have that ability to make me feel beautiful and wanted, to touch my arm, to stare at me and get caught doing it, then produce a wry smile. He has to get my anxieties and make me laugh at them, know that for a girl who was once married alcohol and vows might make me… oh I don’t know, want to throw myself in front of a meat truck. And he can’t smell or have a small penis incase I get drunk. And I will get drunk, like you read about in medical textbooks beside photos of damaged livers. Rage.