Lament for a New Bride

Dearly beloved, we gather together today to celebrate the memory and mourn the passing of Erin Moore’s single life. And grieve we must, for gone forever is our happily incredulous enemy of Valentine’s Day. Farewell, sweet scorner of the overly affectionate. You shall be missed, most worthy adversary of couple’s nights.

So wide-eyed was she, so happy and optimistic about her life to come, that our dear Miss Moore was the last to realize that existence as she knew it was nearing the end. The first of her friends to go, she might have passed blithely from this life to the next in a haze of bridal expos and cake tasting, had it not been for the dire warnings of these most loyal friends. Eyes fixed unblinkingly on where she was going, it took Erin several years to grasp the concept that she has become part of a couple now, no longer part of a group.

May her most dear Urban Family love her still, though she is no longer of their realm. I hope that you might find comfort in the fact that she will no longer borrow and then never return your ‘going out clothes’, for where she has gone, there is no need for backless shirts and impossibly low-rise jeans. But know this—she is looking down at you from her two and a half bath on a quarter acre yard.

We mourn for never again will girl’s night be an easy careless affair, but instead it shall be relegated to mildly patronizing e-mails about needing ‘girl-time,’ glossing over the fact that He must work late that night anyway. Her weekends will no longer be spent sleeping it off, but rather shopping for coordinating wall sconces and throw pillows. Kiddie pools will now serve their intended purpose in her life, no longer housing cans of Old Style on a summer’s eve. Nevermore will her checking account suffer overdraft fees in thanks to $5 martini night at Bowman’s. Rather, she will begin to budget for new countertops and her vocabulary will expand to encompass hitherto unknown phrases such as ‘Credit Score’ and “Home Equity Loans” and “but it’s in such a great school system.”

Yet, let us not grieve what she is to become, let us instead celebrate who she was—a girl happily eschewing relationships, scoffing at the drama they caused in the lives of otherwise reasonable people. May her formerly dateless commiseration stand as testimony of the good friend that once she was, before we lost her to china patterns and joint savings accounts.

Condolences to you, young gentlemen of the city, for certainly your heartaches are the most acute, your desperation the most pronounced. Your hopes have been brutally snatched from you, your dreams dashed against the cruel alter upon which she stands. Although Erin has traveled from whence you cannot seek her, may you heal in the comfort of others. While their embraces may ease the pain, you shall never forget the muse who is taken from you forever. The irrevocable hole in your heart may never close, but my prayer is that you might learn to live with it, and love and heal.

Farewell, dear Erin. May you find solace, for Beyonce sings for you no more. May you always remember when life included blissful, wistful bemoaning of your boyfriendless state. May you never seat your single friends at the kids’ table. And may you enjoy the greener grass of the suburbs as you await your friends who, one by one, are sure to join you in the sweet hereafter.