Do not ring the wedding bells just yet

By the time the clock struck noon this past Saturday at the Hartsfield Airport, I had already inhaled a Starbucks Iced Cafe Mocha, sat through a turbulent two hour airplane flight and checked into a quaint little hotel with 30 of my nearest and dearest family members.

Maybe quaint was not exactly an appropriate description. How many 20-year-olds do you know who get to spend a free weekend in a two bedroom suite with 116 channels worth of cable and your own bathroom?

Meticulously planned out for my extended family was a weekend full of 8 a.m. breakfasts, command appearances in front of a camera day in and day out, and hours spent on hair and makeup -- a typical Jewish wedding.

My mother's family was blessed enough with three weddings in the past seven months and my great aunt had the fortunate (or is that unfortunate) luck of planning two of them in the hub of the south -- good, old Atlanta.

As seven o'clock rolled around it was time to take the five minute car trip to the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. After we made our way up the stairs of Maggiano's Italian Restaurant it occurred to me that my cousin and I were the only ones our age -- too old to associate with the toddlers, but too young to socialize with the wedding party. The bride was only 24, and my cousin (the groom) was 28, but nobody wanted to talk to members of the family.

To ease my discomfort, my 83-year- old grandfather, who still has the mentality of a 30-year-old at times, slipped me an oversized "plain" orange juice, or so that is what he told me to say.

As the hours floated by, it suddenly dawned on me that the bride -- a graduate from my high school -- was only four years older than me. I went down the line of cousins and suddenly realized that thanks to all of these recent weddings the next one in line to be married was me.

The bridesmaids had put together a slide show for the happy couple with pictures from their high school and college years. As I watched picture after picture grace the screen it occurred to me that someday my candid moments would be on a TV screen for my entire family to see and laugh at.

My mind jumped from one high school and then college memory to the next, wondering which ones would make it to the big show. Evidently, this is a new wedding tradition -- lucky me.

The next night at the reception I was yet again confronted with the fear that I might be the next one walking down that aisle. How could I ever find the man I would spend the rest of my life with when I have trouble picking out what shoes to wear with my outfits?

Throughout the reception my family members decided that since they had not seen me in several months they would bombard me with questions. How is school going? Do you have a job for the summer? What is your major? And then it came: Are you seeing anyone special?

As I politely answered, "No, not right now," I scanned the room for the location of my salvation -- the bar. I found my cousin there. He too was trying to escape from the loveliness that is our family.

Four sea breezes later, I was talking up a storm. When I looked around the room, so was everyone else. Either the wedding lifted everyone's spirits, or they had found the exact same place of salvation as I did.

While "Baby Got Back" blasted throughout the entire restaurant (again the bride is only 24) my aunt said, "Alyssa, when she throws the bouquet you should try to catch it."

For the love of god, someone had actually said it. Next, the women in my family will be picking out the color of my bridesmaids' dresses. But at this rate, I will have chosen the bridesmaids before the groom.

For the rest of the evening, I thought about every guy who had ever been in my life. And not one of them seemed to jump out at me and say, "Damn, why did you screw that one up?" Despite the crazy ideas that went through my head thanks to the sea breezes, one thing was still very obvious -- I was alone.

All four of my best friends have someone special in their lives, whether it lasts for three months or the rest of their lives. Don't I deserve someone too? Now this is not a cry for pity because at times I am way too independent to have to worry about someone else. But there are times -- like at a family wedding where everyone seems to be part of a couple -- when having someone to dance with would not be such a horrible thing.

I put all of this wedding mumbo jumbo behind me until Tuesday morning. I was watching last Sunday's Sex in the City, which one of my housemates had video taped. The question in the episode was do you ever get rid of a man from your life, or will he always be a ghost? Again I ask myself if I have already let "the one" go, or if I am still too young to know. And I think the only answer is that ghosts never truly disappear, and I still have plenty of time to find "the one" -- or at least until I turn 24.

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