W-O-M-A-N...

While home for Christmas, I had a cousin get married. I was invited to his wedding and reception. I was more than willing to be there for the reception. I was not receptive, however, to the wedding invitation. Truth be told, I just didn't really feel like it. Also, I didn't have too much time home, and I had things to do. One other reason that was unbeknownst to any others until now is that I am waiting. For some reason, I have yet to be to any sealing done in the temple (unless you count proxy for the dead). Now that I am in my later stages of youth and single life (at least I hope) I kinda figure that I might as well make my very first live sealing ordinance my own. So, I didn't go. There was an underlying tertiary reason for not wanting to go, and that was the conversation that would ensue.

By this I mean the constant barrage of questions regarding the delay of my wedding. People ask as if I have more control over that than I do. Well, I do have a catalogue of mail order Russian brides, but that was a few seasons ago and I'd rather see what 2005 models were available before rushing in.

When asked why I wasn't at the wedding my mom told one cousin, "Well, I think he just didn't want to be asked a million times when he'd get married."

Not too off from the truth. I went to the reception and the first person I spoke to was that cousin that spoke to my mom. She looked at me and said, "Just don't hang around someone long enough to start a conversation, you'll be fine."

"What are you talking about?" She explained to me that my mother had laid the ground work for my uncles to make even more fun of me than they had previously anticipated by telling everybody my excuse.

The groom's father, my uncle Bob, comes up to me and spells out, "W-O-M-A-N! Get it?"

To this I chose the high road and played along instead of ripping off his head and spitting down his neck. "Ya, I got it. 'M-A-N'. Not so hard...what? I missed a letter or two? Same difference, right?" That sort of conversation came up with every relative I have, even ones I though were dead...or just hoped were.

Upon return here I was glad that this was not the kind of campus where that question gets asked too much. Girls are afraid of guys that talk about it. To my astonishment, word must be out that I am now 25+ because now it is expected of me to have an answer to the "when" question among even peers or the much despised preemies.

Yesterday I was speaking with an 18 year-old who asked me that question. He was a friend of mine, so I wasn't upset or anything, but I figured I might as well call a spade a spade.

"Your guess is a good as mine. I won't know until I get a crystal ball. Or maybe a magic 8 ball. Heck, if I had any balls at all I...(pause)...I probably should think this statement through some..."