Most of my friends are married. Some have even begun to breed. And it’s great. Really.
The fact that they’re beginning new chapters in their lives and playing mommy and daddy for real, it’s just brilliant. They have walked their paths and have found compatible traveling companions to continue the journey.
And I’m not jealous. Not one bit. Honest. I know that a time will come when I too shall find a suitable escort on my life’s traversal.

So, seeing as I’ve made peace with that and am just doing my own thing in the meantime, why won’t people stop asking me the same retarded questions about my pending nuptials?

I’ve got three family weddings coming up. Female cousins, all younger than me. (can you feel my situation, people?) The schlep of deciding what to wear to whose, has been overridden by the far more pressing dilemma of how to deal with relatives who want to know when’s my big day.

Just once I’ like a really snappy answer that’ll freeze the smudgy-lipsticked smile off their M.A.C-attacked faces.

“My girlfriend just got her psychological assessment back and the doctor has green-lighted the gender-reallocation procedure. We’ll set the date as soon as the bandages come off.”

“Get married? Are you crazy, I’m having too much fun just sleeping around.”

“But I’ve already married Inzamam. We can’t get divorced just yet or else immigration will get suspicious. If they deport him, I won’t get the money his uncle promised me.”

“No one’s liked me enough to ask me. Okay. Now leave me alone.”

“But all the good ones are taken. Mmm…Is that your husband? Yummy, *wink* *wink*”

But of course, my mamma never raised me to be rude and vile. And what if Aunty has a really nice son/nephew/neighbour/dentist she’d like to introduce me to?