Plus One

Oh. My. God.

It has come to this.

I open my Facebook account today, and have a new message in my inbox. And this was it.

--
Hi Colleen,

I am a TV producer in New York and I am looking to profile several single women who have been a bridesmaid many times over and who are now ready to finally be a bride.

At this juncture, we are looking to showcase one woman in her quest to find the right man to walk down the aisle with. Yes, it's a bit like 27 Dresses. The subject should be outgoing and have a close network of friends and family who share the common goal. Can you tell me a little about yourself? Family? Friends? Your job? How actively involved are the people close to you in your dating life?

If this sounds like it may be of interest to you or someone that you may know, or if you would simply like to hear more about it, please reply to this message. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you.

Thanks,

Phil
Executive Producer, Kingfish Productions
--

First of all, how did this guy find me? Did he see my "Weddings and More Weddings" Album on Facebook? Has he been monitoring my status updates that say "off to a wedding" or some other helpful clue? Has he been stalking me on the Interweb?

Now, I fully admit that I have been a bridesmaid like a gagillion times. I have been to trizillion weddings.

I have worn light pink, dark pink, light pink with dark pink, grey, navy, black, and brown dresses. I have had to have every one of them altered, and have had to pay through the nose for the added 10 inches of fabric that constitutes "extra length."

I have bought dyed shoes in brown, black and taupe, and have sported heels, demi-heels and near flats.

I have worn my hair down, up, half up half down and somewhere else in between.

I have had my nails filed, buffed and painted in a variety of "approved shades" to match the other ladies.

I have been the MOH (maid of honor for those uninformed), the COB (cousin of the bride), a reader, a greeter, and the token sorority sister, college friend, childhood friend, Chicago friend and tall friend.

I have stood at the front of the congregation on the far left (tallest to smallest), on the far right (MOH duties prevail), on the far middle (a bell curve was desired) and everywhere else in the row of beauties.

I have entered the church, one step (slow down!) at a time, to trumpets, violins, piano, organ, keyboard, a three-part harmony, and a choir.

I have carried floral arrangements ranging from the delicate to the monstrous in spring, summer and fall hues of pink, purple, blue, orange, yellow, red, white, peach, maroon and green.

I have danced the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Shag, the "high school dance with shoulders apart," the Posse Dance, the ZTA Sisters dance, the Two Step and even participated in the Limbo.

I have flown to weddings, bachelorette parties, engagement parties, bridesmaid luncheons, post-wedding barbecues, showers, showers and more showers.

I have bought presents off the registry, from a small boutique, from a huge department store, from a local gift shop and from the Internet.

I have a registered login and password to TheKnot.com and WeddingChannel.com, NOT to plan my wedding, but to buy presents for brides and grooms.

I have loved all of it, by the way.

But, does all of this qualify me to be on a reality show? A sad over-produced television program not-so-loosely-based on a successful movie with that chick from Grey's Anatomy in it? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride?

I'd be mortified.

But, wait.

Maybe I could register? And hold a huge TV premiere party where people have to send back a pre-stamped RSVP card, bring a guest, sit at round tables according to small place setting notes, eat chicken or steak, dance to a local band, drink too much, make out with my cousins/friends/college buddies, crash in a hotel nearby and bring me gifts?

Now, for that, I'll RSVP yes. Plus one.

**The photo above the post is from my friend Liz's bachelorette weekend at the lake. Somewhat mocking tradition, and somewhat paying homage to outdated and unflattering fabrics, we all brought and wore an old bridesmaid dress, fixed our hair in outdated and unflattering fashions and put on hot pink (or mauve, as it may be) lipstick. Liz bought a wedding dress on eBay for $5 and sported it with style. We held a mock bouquet toss and even took group photos according to the hue of the aforementioned offending dress. Always a bridesmaid? Absolutely.**