I marry people. That sounds weird. It’s not that I personally get married TO a bunch of people. I perform wedding ceremonies for people – people who marry each other. So now that that’s cleared up… I marry people, and before I write a ceremony for them, I meet with them first. I probe their little psyches, get to know their quirks, and just generally form quick opinions of each of them, so I can write a custom, tailored wedding ceremony that really reflects their personalities.

So far, I’ve pretty much fallen in love with every single couple I marry. (Which again sounds weird). Not THAT kind of falling in love, silly. I don’t want to “buy them flowers and ask them on dates” kind of love. I just always come home after a meeting with a couple with a huge grin on my face, and the conversation I have with my wife usually sounds something like this:

“They are the cutest / sweetest couple! No really, I mean, I know I say that about all the couples I meet, but seriously, these two are adorable!”

And so the conversation goes.

Last week, I met with a couple. I came home. I wasn’t grinning. I DID start off the conversation with “They are the cutest couple!” But … and here’s the point of this post … there was a “BUT” that followed that sentence.

I said…

I could see Gail getting all puffed up, and ready for fight mode. I’m sure she was thinking in her head, “What? What did he say? What did he call you? I’ll kick his ass for calling you something bad! Where is he?…”

Before her eyes bulged out of her head, I added, “His dad asked him who their officiant was. He told his dad that she’s a nice, middle-aged lady with a hippie van”.

I waited for Gail to react to that. Gail has one of those expressive faces. The kind that shows every emotion washing across it – live and in technicolor as the emotions happen. So I watched her face change from “I’m ready to defend my wife’s honor!” to “Wait, what did you just say?” to “I’m confused. Did I miss the bad part?”

I realized she had no clue why I was upset.

“Middle-aged! He called me middle-aged!”, I shouted.

More confusion swirled around Gail’s face.

“But, honey, you are middle-aged,” she said.

“Well, yeah, TECHNICALLY, I guess I am, but that’s not the point! No one has ever actually called me that before! I’m devastated!” Imagine my arms flinging themselves into the air, as though I were in deep despair.

(Side note: Yes, I can be a bit dramatic at times, but I do it with flair. I over-dramatize on purpose. It’s not like I don’t KNOW I’m being dramatic. That’s way different than on-purpose dramatics. People who don’t know they are being dramatic are … well … annoying drama queens. Me…I’m just being entertaining. 😉 )

So now, it’s days later, and I’m still floored by the fact that someone called me middle-aged. I don’t hold it against the young man. He is a sweetie, and has no idea he said anything that I would take offense to. I’m looking forward to marrying the two of them later this week. I’ll be grinning and gushing about how cute and awesome they both are, like always. And there won’t be a “but” following the statement. Been there, done that.

Still, the middle-aged lady phrase will linger and sting for a while.

I’d much rather be called a little old lady. Why? Because little old ladies can do the craziest, silliest things, and people say how cute they are.

I look forward to having my “crazy little old lady adventures” and having people think I’m cute because of them.

This will be me one day, for sure!

Until then, I’ll try to live with the “middle-aged lady” label. I can’t promise I’ll always wear it well.