The Wedding

It would be cool to have a therapist. But it would also be cool to have health insurance. I think I’m putting it off truly because if I do develop some fatal illness, it would be interesting to see who would take on the bill. Who am I kidding? It would probably be David’s family. Or no one. And that’s not fair to David’s family or the swirly whiteness of “No One”. 

Anyway, I’m back from the stupid mountains. What an overrated atmosphere that was. It’s like where God lives but weed is at a reasonable amount there; $15.99. So reasonable, David didn’t even attempt to bring some on the plane with us. He just left it at a gas station before dropping off our stupid rental car. God…going to this wedding was p.r.i.c.y.

No worries though, Jack was taken care of. Fuck his anonymity dough. Jack is my spoiled yellow brother. Yellow as in teeth. Spoiled as in just spoiled. There’s nothing wrong with having yellowed teeth, especially if you earned them with weeks long depression spells like me! But he sucks. Him and his new fuck buddy of the month got an all expenses paid private vacay, while David and I re-financed our lives just to be ignored by the-bride-to-be…and everyone else for that matter. I mean, even the-groom-to-be talked to us for a second before the porta potty, rich person’s wedding commenced.

(They left out the porta potty experience to everyone...not just us this time, but it was kind of awesomely hilarious to see my sister’s real sister side step in an expensive dress her porta potty germs! She was not pleased to be left out of "the know")

Yes the locale was “beautiful”. Beautifully expensive just to hear my sister recite on a cliff how this 26 year old boy has changed her life for good and he in turn talks about how hot she is for his ten minutes. 

David got to enjoy the view more than I did. A literal rainbow behind the mountains, deer drinking water, and an eagle flying overhead. I was smiling till my face felt sore next to ten strangers. Then the photographer told us to grab each other’s asses and that’s when I exited the building for good. I mean…er...the cliff. Unfortunately, my fall from grace wasn’t fatal. Still had the lame-fake-barn-reception to attend. 

Everyone called me Katie…purposefully or ignorantly, does it really matter? It eventually became what all of school felt like...what with having the last name that I have. Hell, some people didn’t even like Katie. I was oftentimes addressed as Kaitlin McGuire most of my life. (You’ll never guess the real spelling let alone the pronunciation).

No offense to all the Katies out there. Some of you are confident young or I guess… some of you are confident older women too. But being called Katie just wasn’t in the cards for me. My mom says all our names like we’re perpetually in trouble. But “KAY-TEE” is the most satisfying of them all. And fuck her, she barely ever stepped up to the real-mom-plate. 

So I reasonably suggested, begged, then screamed to go by Kathleen and nobody could fucking do it. Yeah cis problems, I know it. But why??? Why can’t anyone just do it?! I’ve been Kathleen since I was sixteen years old. It’s been written on name tags, in letters, on tax forms! WHY? Even my grandpa, who was silently dying of brain cancer, caught on when I repeatedly kept requesting. 

Well, I’ll tell you why... it’s because my family doesn’t find me worthy of even the name they gave me. I often think how confident I’d probably be if I got to live out my life asexually. Like in dress and maybe sexually too. But it just feels like a brave new world to try to make friends…found family, and just live my life how I want to. Mostly because fuck living, am I right? No. But fuck you. 

I mean, I think I can pretty much live how I want to. I’m just feeling very not validated from the whole experience. And want to go zoom zoom on the fake way back machine hoping to just make choices that no longer exist for a younger me. But I have some choices now. I mean I stopped wearing make up. That has been amazing. I mean I had to cake some on for the bullshit wedding. But we all were masquerading as different people there anyhow. I cut my own bangs now...poorly. And I am working up to the shorter hair thing. Even though David does not prefer it.

David is very very important to me. In the last 3 years he did change my life. And if in his own vows he did want to say objectifying things about me for ten minutes, I’d let him. Because he’s earned it in a way. And yeah, that’s not politically correct. But I’m shitty. And he’s scraped some of that shit off for not even anything in return. He doesn’t force me to be picture perfect Beyoncé and I’m grateful for it. No relationship is perfect. No relationship is the rainbow behind the mountains and the deer drinking water and shit. It’s just, two people trying to work together some of the time. Not all the time…because what are we? Haley Joel Osment in A.I.? But for that some of time to grow into something tolerable and safe. And I’d take that over anything else I think.