In my opinion there are certain things you believe in when you are a little person that you don't when you grow up;
Santa, The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny etc
And for me, on that list, was the idea of weddings as a symbol of love.
Sure, I thought it was true when I was little, in fact I thought they were amazing because I got given a new dress to wear to my 1st wedding which was my cousin Ian's wedding!
It was purple with black spots and had matching socks.
Oh yes, back in the days/age when wearing socks with dresses wasn't retro it was normal!
I loved this dress, I loved the big celebration, I loved seeing my cousin's wife look like an angel, I loved being spun round the dancefloor by my uncle and I loved my first sip of babycham too!
I had a fabulous time and I wanted one of these weddings one day.
Then about a week later Ian left his new bride for another woman.
It was worse than realising the sound of Santa coming down your chimney is actually your dad retrieving presents from the loft.
Ok, maybe it was a one off, I wasn't about to give up on the idea totally just because I had one dumb cousin...I didn't know then but it would turn out I would have quite a few more...
The first time I was asked to be bridesmaid was another cousin's wedding.
She had 8 bridesmaids and put 4 of them in Lemon and 4 in Navy Blue.
You can guess what colour I was in can't you?
Yep...Lemon.
The dress was particularly puffy (as was my hair in those days) so I basically looked a cupcake all day.
I did enjoy the champagne this time - a privelege I was not legally old enough to have which added even more so to the joy of the day.
I found out later that my cousin had walked in on her groom in bed with her mother the night before the wedding and had married him anyway.
I guess my aunt was the only person who actually had a dilemma when asked what side she was on - the bride's or groom's!
I didn't feel quite so bad about looking like a cupcake...
Turns out there are worse things in life!
A couple of years later two of my cousins chose to get married in the same summer.
Until this point in my life I didn't know what true bitchiness was.
The first wedding was a cousin who is beautiful and kind spirited and had for many years been in love with a guy in the army who she hardly ever saw.
She had decided to get married rather suddenly whereas my other cousin had been planning hers for ages.
So the claws came out...
And this was not just Bride wars this was Mother-of-the-Bride Outfit wars, Father-of-the-Bride Speech wars, Cake Making wars, Seating plan wars, First Dance wars...
It was actually the loveliest wedding I had attended but was overshadowed by family members of all shapes and sizes bringing out the worst in each other.
To her credit the bride seemed not to care about the wars breaking out all around her one little bit.
I just thought it was a shame that a day full of love could be ruined by jealousy.
A while later I found out that the wedding was rushed because my cousin had gotten pregnant.
When I say her fella was away a lot, I mean he was away a lot and was to be away a whole lot more after this.
To this day my cousin has never said who the real father of her child is but it certainly explained why she could care less about the bridal bitching that day!
The wedding that was later that same summer, is actually my favourite bad wedding story so far.
It was the 2nd time I was asked to be a bridesmaid and I couldn't think of a good enough excuse to get out of it.
This time I was dressed in emerald green it wasn't quite as humiliating as the lemon coloured dress till my cousin's hairdresser decided I would wear a hairband.
This was the wrong side of the 1990's for hairbands but no one had told her!
Around the same time I had decided to stay on to college and university at the end of school and, as I was the only one of all my cousins to do this, I was literally the black sheep of the family.
A few of my cousins congratulated me and were genuinely chuffed for me but most of them decided not to talk to me.
So I literally had my hair and make up done for the wedding in silence.
Turns out the only thing worse than wearing a hair band is having it literally pushed onto your head while your cousins give you the silent treatment...
And so to the wedding...
The way these guys had bitched about the wedding earlier that same summer meant I was expecting a lot and to be fair nothing was left untouched with this one.
We drove to the wedding in a limo, I helped myself to the champagne in the back while everyone fussed over the bride.
The reception area was stunning, I helped myself to the champagne while everyone chatted.
The photographer was exceptionally talented, I helped myself to the champagne whilst waiting to be called for photos.
The wedding was ultra-traditional, they even had chimney sweeps at the church. And they did the traditional line up where you go along and shake everyone's hands.
My mum said she couldn't shake the groom's hand and I was quite drunk at this point and just wanted to sit down so we slipped into the main room without going along the line.
I asked my mum why she didn't want to shake his hand and she told me to ask one of my cousin's.
I was quite merry at this point so it took a while for the penny to drop but when it did it was a clanger...
That same cousin had confided to me on the hen party that she was sleeping with a man who was engaged.
Well, turns out she was now sleeping with a man who was married - to her own cousin no less!
All of a sudden I wasn't nearly drunk enough for this so I sloped off to the bar unnoticed. In the brief interlude between the line up and being announced into the room the groom had gone to the bar too.
He didn't notice me stand behind him at the bar.
He certainly didn't notice me see him take down the phone number of the woman behind the bar.
I'm not surprised my mum didn't want to shake his hand, she had no idea where it had been!
I got my drink and sat back down.
But I wasn't sat with my mum and my brother.
I was sat with all the other bridesmaids so I made sure I drank plenty more to cope with the silent treatment again.
I looked round the table.
I was sat opposite the cousin who's groom had slept with her mother and next to the cousin who was sleeping with today's groom.
When the best man got up to make his speech he said he didn't know of a happier couple than the bride and groom and I am ashamed to say that I burst out laughing.
The champagne had helped me decide that I couldn't take much more hypocrisy.
But even if I didn't like the way my cousin bitched about the earlier wedding and even though I didn't like the groom I had no right to ruin that moment for all the other family and friends who were none the wiser.
I think my brother took me home very shortly after the speeches and I'm pretty sure we had a great night getting drunk at home.
But the next day my aunt said she would never speak to my mum again because she didn't shake hands in the line up.
My mum was ostracised from her own family for having standards.
Needless to say most of my cousins didn't speak to me after the laughing incident either but they weren't exactly speaking to me before it anyway so I didn't feel a sense of great loss.
I have been to other weddings since and most of them have been much more joyous.
My dad's was, I'm not going to lie, quite a difficult occasion.
Not one I feel I can speak about much on here but one where I learned a very important lesson that, as a writer, you have to be able to stand by your words as much as you would stand by the members of your family.
My brother's was particularly fun, even though it was the day after my university leaver's ball I loved every minute of it!
I was bridesmaid again and for once the dress was gorgeous and I had a great time.
My mum's was ace too, she got married the day before I went travelling around the world just so I wouldn't be away when she did it.
I was bridesmaid again, it was a gorgeous dress again and instead of having a table plan my mum had one big table that everyone sat around.
And this huge table had more wine on it than I had ever seen before and, yes I drank a lot and yes, I laughed a lot, but this time in the right places and for the right reasons.
I set off round the world with a huge hangover and very aware that having been a bridesmaid 4 times that I was very unlikely to ever be a bride.
But that kind of suited me.
At this point I could concede that maybe weddings weren't all bad, but only if other people could concede that they weren't all good either.
That they don't paper over the cracks in a relationship, that they don't stop the truth being found out, that they don't make up for something else that is missing in your life and certainly the more you spend on them doesn't mean the more succesful your marriage will be.
It's been 7 years, almost to the day, since I set off travelling and in all that time I have happily held the view that weddings are great, they're just not for me...until now.
I recently went to a wedding that I knew would be the exact opposite of all my horror stories.
I knew it would be a room full of fabulous, wonderful people who were genuinely filled with love and excitement for the happy couple.
The reason being that the couple are two of the nicest, kindest, most wonderful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
You can't choose your family but you can choose your friends and I don't know how I was lucky enough to get the chance to choose these guys.
I knew their wedding would be all of these genuinely amazing things, but I just didn't know it would affect me so much.
It was only the 2nd time in my life that I thought 'I want one of these'.
Don't worry, I think the feeling will wear off...
I still have too many objections but it definately chinked the armour.
When I told one of the many very nice men I happened to chat to at this wedding that I didn't want a wedding myself he told me that it was as selfish to not want one as it was to want one.
I'm not sure I entirely agree with him but it certainly makes life interesting to look at things a different way...
I grew up believing in weddings until I found out they weren't real.
But I spent so long after that not believing in them that it feels strange to find out now that maybe they might be more real than I was ever able to give them credit for.
It's strange, it's a little bit like someone telling you they still stay up on christmas eve to see Santa or that they still find money when leave their tooth under their pillow.
You're not sure you would do the same but you can't help admire their conviction either...
According to the saying being a bridesmaid 3 times means I will automatically be ruled out of ever being a bride.
A week ago I was perfectly happy to be living proof of an age old cliche.
And maybe I never will be anyone's bride.
But right now, I'm not sure I'm going to let someone else's cliche decide for me.
Why should nice weddings automatically mean a girl should want one?
Why should bad weddings automatically mean a girl shouldn't?
Anyway...sod the cliche I've actually been a bridesmaid four times, what does that mean?
Maybe it means I get a bit longer than most people to work out what I believe in.
It's much easier to believe in that which you can see than that which you can't.
Maybe that's why my cousins wanted weddings so badly, perhaps they wanted to prove something existed that actually didn't.
In my opinion weddings are for couples that are truly in love but they are overused by couples that aren't.
And so a word to the wise; when true love exists you don't need to prove it (and that perhaps is when you enjoy it most).
And you certainly don't need dresses that make people look like cupcakes.
-