Some people wear their heart up on their sleeve. I wear mine underneath my right pant leg strapped to my boot.

Ages ago, I started a draft of this post.  Not a draft, really, just a list of hot-button topics.  I thought it was time to actually write it.

I love weddings.
I hate Wedding Crap.
I hate the hoopla.  The dresses, the flowers, the Hall, the invites and politics, the Expense.
(I will admit to enjoying Say Yes to the Dress, but only because I love watching how the salespeople suss out the customers, NOT because I give a shit what they eventually pick.  Both the Atlanta version and the Bridesmaids edition thereof can go straight to hell.)
(Also: I may or may not be writing this to an Ani DiFranco soundtrack, which is damn near guaranteed to make me more bitter than necessary.)

Let me get anecdotal on yer ass.

Case #1: Labmate
Yep, THAT Labmate, from years ago.  Never a romantic role model, but I don’t believe I’ve ever shared with you the circumstances of her engagement.  She and her boyfriend had been dating for at least a couple of years when I met her.  A couple of years later, he graduated and was ready to start his postdoc.  He had been offered a position at a Very Prestigious University approximately 4 hours away. 
It is understandable that Labmate wanted to go check out the area with him.
Less understandable is the fact that her parents went as well.  Not his, HERS.
But okay, fine.  Cultural differences and whatnot.
While visiting VPU, they naturally stopped into a jewelry store, where they were promptly sold on putting a deposit on a diamond that had not yet arrived in the store.
Yep, you read that right.
Oh, but the paperwork was very impressive.  Nothing really says everlasting love like some irrefutable paperwork.
A few months later, on Labmate’s birthday, Boyfriend went all out.  It was an all-day-Labmate-extravaganza.  Overpriced dinners, pricey jewelry, desserts from her favorite bakery.
I think it was Valentine’s Day when he actually proposed.  Apparently it was “so romantic.”  He gave her a beautiful box…when she untied the ribbon and opened it, it was filled with rose petals…and…

…a blank check.

You know, for the balance of the unseen-but-pedigreed diamond.

Let’s be clear: I could give a shit about a ring.  If you want to marry me, say so.  If you want to give me a ring, make it one you can afford when you ask me.

So now it’s time to actually have the rock put into a setting.  She asks for the setting that will make the diamond sparkle as much as possible.  Naturally, this means it will be set very high so that light can pass through it as often as possible for maximum jealousy.
For at least the first year they were engaged, that ring sat in her parents’ safe.  The reason? She couldn’t wear it every day because it was set too high and would interfere with her work.
<FACEPALM>
See?  I hate this shit.
I believe Labmate and Mr. Labmate are FINALLY planning their wedding this year.






Case #2: Facebook
During my postdoc, I had an acquaintance who got engaged and later married.  They were one of those couples who posted everything about their relationship on Facebook. 
Don’t get me wrong – I was very happy for them.  They were a very cute couple, and while I didn’t know her, he was a really neat guy.
But every aspect of their wedding planning seemed to be captured on FB:
Professionally-shot engagement photos?  Check.
Dog adopted out of wedlock?  Check.
Status updates about every aspect of the wedding?  Check.
Wedding photos?  Check.
Mobile uploads from the honeymoon?  Check.
And even after all of this, I was still almost enjoying the process, until they posted a link to their favorite photographer of joyous events.
It has been a long time, so I can’t find the link to share the delicious irony of the situation, but upon entering said photographer’s site, you are greeted with sample videos from previous satisfied customers…
…one of which is set to Mika’s “Happy Ending.”
Um…call me crazy, but I don’t particularly want my night of golden memories set to the dulcet tones of:

This is the way you left me,
I’m not pretending.
No hope, no love, no glory,
No happy ending…

WHY ARE PEOPLE IN LOVE SO FUCKING STUPID???





Case #3: Facebook (Part Deux)
So I decided to finally write this post thanks to a video that is making the FB rounds lately.  I will not link it here because it pisses me off too much to give them extra hits.  If you must know, it is entitled “Isaac’s Live Lip-Dub Proposal.”
I HATE SHIT LIKE THIS.
You videotaped your elaborately staged proposal.  For your future wife to reminisce by?  Aww…how cute.
Wait…you uploaded it to YouTube.  To share with your friends and family in distant states?  Aww…how cute.
Wait…in approximately two days it has gone viral on FB.  Because you are hopelessly narcissistic?  Aww.
If you haven’t already seen and/or Googled it, the video is a VERY elaborate proposal, set to “I Think I Wanna Marry You” by Bruno Mars.
How original.
If you’re the sort of person that has to surround yourself by a gaggle of friends and family (including a token gay couple – how progressive!) in order to commit to a woman, then fuck you.
If you have to put the proposal up on YouTube and have it go viral to validate your love, then fuck you.
And if you need my female friends, who don’t even know you, to “AAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLL” to feel like you are a good boyfriend/fiancee/husband, then FUCK YOU.




To me, the best part of every relationship is what happens behind closed doors.  I don’t like public displays of affection or girl talk.  I don’t like meaningless tokens.  You will never see my relationship status on Facebook.  My best friends will never understand why my most meaningful relationships were such, because that is just between me and him.
My relationships aren’t for a diamond, a party, or a dress.  Not even for a viral video.  They are for my heart, my head, my body, and my soul.
My relationships are for me, not for you.

Who’s Gonna Miss You?

Every time I move to a new city, my mom worries.

 

Okay, she ALWAYS worries.  She’s a mom. 

 

But my mom is particularly good at keeping her cool.  The cracks only show when I move to a new area, far away, with no pre-established roots.

 

It is sound Mom-logic.  It goes like this:
If something happened to you…would anybody know?  Would anybody tell me?

This is, when it comes down to it, a very good question.  If I get in a car accident, I believe my license/registration/insurance all have her listed as my emergency contact.

But if I were to have an accident in my home?

If I were to choke on takeout?

Sure, when school is in session, someone would notice after a day of not showing up to class.  In summer?  Maybe a couple of weeks.  And that’s only because I have enlisted the department secretary to come look after my garden once a month when I go out of town.  They might not notice until fall.  Thankfully, all of those trips involve friends, who would surely be concerned if I never show up.  But they might just assume I was flaking out.

 

It’s an occupational hazard when one is a poor correspondent.

 

…

…

…

 

One of my students didn’t show up for his final this week.  He didn’t forget what day it was – he had sent me an e-mail the day before expressing regrets that tomorrow would be our last day.  He isn’t a ridiculously irresponsible 19-year-old – he is in his late 40’s. 

 

He is the sort of person that, were he stricken with food poisoning, would have e-mailed me.  Had his car broken down en route to campus (he lives about 40 min away) he also probably would have e-mailed.  Family emergency?  E-mail.  He loves my class and needs a good grade to move on.  Plus, he is a diligent student and GROWN-ASS MAN.

 

Right after the exam, I sent him a concerned e-mail.

The next day: a concerned voicemail.

Neither got a response.

I contacted my department head, and the Dean of Students’ Office.

They know nothing, and have told me this is the end of the road.  There isn’t really anything more I CAN do.  (I won’t go into all of the intricacies here.)  They will let me know if they hear anything.

 

Something has to be wrong, but it is officially out of my control.  At this point, all I can do is wonder and worry. 

 

If you want to know what my head sounds like, this is it:

A cacophony of emotion that I can’t quite make sense of…but whatever it is, it is true, and I am feeling it.

 

And if it turns out that he is happy and healthy and just decided this school can shove it, I will kick his ass for not at least letting me in on it.