Put the single people together at a table, so they have someone to talk to.

My HMO doesn't cover the number of therapy visits it would take to mitigate the trauma I'd experience from this.

Admittedly, I'm a reclusive misanthropic freak, so I'm not the best person to have at a social event like a wedding reception anyway.

My only sane post-college roommate was a girl who I met when I -- in a TOTAL departure from my misanthropic ways -- joined a volleyball team all by myself. I didn't know a soul on the team, and while it was mostly awkward, sometimes it was fun, and I got along really well with Molly. When I mentioned that my insane roommate was moving out and I was going nuts trying to find an affordable 1-bedroom in a not-scary part of town, Molly said that she was about to look for a new place, too.

And while it could have been all Single White Female, she was actually the best roommate I ever had. But even though we had parties at least once a month, I never became actual *friends* with her friends; although the parties were fun, it was clear that they were Molly's friends and just my acquaintances.

When Molly got married, she invited me to the wedding (with a +1), and I had NO ONE to take with me. So I went by myself, and endured one of the more excruciatingly painful evenings of my life. And when I tried to leave the reception after waiting 45 minutes or so after dinner and cake were over, instead of letting me gracefully slink out the door, Molly kept making a big deal out of it: WHY did I have to go NOW??? Didn't I want to stay and DANCE????

(Yes, she's the bride, and it was her special day, so I was tolerant of her attempts to get me to stay, but I held fast and booked it out of there before the dancing started. I think it was when she said "Oh, but [names of her other single friends who I knew tangentially] will dance with you!!! It'll be FUN!!!!" and those aforementioned tangental friends looked at me with dead-eyed panic that I knew I had to leave, even if it involved breaking one of my own limbs in order to get hauled off to the hospital -- anything to get out of there before the goddamned Electric Slide started.)

(Seriously, y'all, I am SO MUCH FUN.)

Completely identified.

Tomorrow is my back to work day. "I will NOT have a good day."

Anyone who asks me for a guest at my (future) wedding will be disinvited.

After my cousin invited Hubs to his wedding by his first name only, I'd make a point of (1) before the invitations go out, asking people I hadn't heard from in a while whether there's an SO, and (b) ask for the spelling of the last name so it'd be spelled right on the invitation.

anything to get out of there before the goddamned Electric Slide started.)

doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, you can do it -- IT'S ELECTRIC.

My father LOVES the Slide. He says that he won't pay for my wedding if there's no Slide.

doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, you can do it -- IT'S ELECTRIC.

I actually enjoy watching people do it, because, in point of fact, they *can't* do it. t edit That is, the people *I* know. We are an a-rhythmic people.

My problem isn't with the Electric Slide; it's with being forced to mingle (and dance!) with people who grudgingly tolerate me due to a mutual acquaintance. Ick, no.

Steph is from Cincinnati. HER people do the Chicken Dance. In lederhosen.

Also, apparently, cornholing.

Steph is from Cincinnati. HER people do the Chicken Dance. In lederhosen.

And they wait in parking lots for helicopters to drop live turkeys....

I am not kidding, you people: [link]

group dances at weddings confuse me.