You might thinks it's because of the chizuk ladies; those nasty, blood-sucking creatures who feel a need to comment on your state of mind at all public events, but honestly, it's not them.
It's not the Nosey Shadchan either. Nope, I don't have such an issue with the ladies who attempt to cash in on their opportunity for a daily chesed by offering to set me up with a reformed axe murderer.
And no, it's most definately NOT jealousy. My state of mind doesn't have any direct correlation to the number of formerly single friends of mine who march down the aisle with stars in their eyes.
I won't deny it though. I do hate weddings. I hate the drag of the whole thing. I hate wasting an hour of my life clamping my hair between hot metal plates in a conformation attempt. I hate opening my mouth in that ridiculous fashion as I attemt to blacken my not-dark-enough eyebrows. I hate out-of-town weddings that I have to shlep to. I hate rummaging through my closet to find something semi-nice to wear.
I hate watching pious and teary eyed girls pray publicly during the chupah. I hate the way everyone sits around looking like they are enjoying the drag time, while in fact, they aren't enjoying the cheap vegetable soup either. I hate straining my voice to be heard over the band's mealtime rendition of Avraham Fried's "Lo Ovo." most of all, I hate dancing. I hate dancing with the Kallah, I hate dancing in circles, I hate dancing, period.
So, one might ask, why do I do it? Why do I go to wedding after wedding, subjecting myself to this fun again and again? The answer is actually pretty simple. In the immortal words of the great Yogi Bera: "Always go to other people's funerals or they won't go to yours."