and some candy.

I'm getting to the age where a lot of my friends are starting to get married. I'm sure there will be some specific year in my life where pretty much everyone my age gets married all at once. Maybe it's this year; I've got two weddings in the next four months. Luckily, I know a lot of people lacking in marriageability, so I probably won't be the last to go.

I like weddings. I am apparently required to in some deep innate way that I do not understand, because though I am cynical and not especially feminine in the traditional ways, I love a good wedding. When one of my roommates got married, I was all about some bridal catalogs and giving my input on the tiniest decisions. In fact, I wish I could've been more involved. Perhaps I could have been consulted on the matter of the color of the bridesmaids' dresses. The good thing about being single and going to weddings is that you can see what works and what does not. Outdoor wedding in July in North Carolina? Heavens, no. Open bar? Heck yeah. So I have this growing list in my mind of the things that I definitely do or do not want for my own wedding.

But can I just state that I really hate bridal registries? I essentially go into a rant mode anytime I have to look through one of those things. It's like a Santa letter for adults, but more irritating, both because adults should know better, and because it's ridiculously specific. If a little kid specified exactly what model, year, and color he wanted for his bicycle, I'd be inclined to buy him some encyclopedias instead, 1993, brown. And is it just me, or does everyone pick out the absolute most expensive version of whatever it is they want? I suppose people figure that if they are going to demand towels from someone, then they should demand the $15 kind that you have to wash one at a time. But at the same time, maybe it's our own fault for asking what to buy them. You have to admire that sort of honesty: we asked what they wanted, and by golly, they told us.

I feel restricted by gift registries. When I know the people fairly well and I feel like I could probably get them something neat that they would enjoy, I feel discouraged from that path by the need to play by the rules. So rather than buying that really cool lamp or maybe that vintage coffee mug set, I'm all, "Here's the spice rack you picked out, deluxe, chrome." The people who know me well would probably understand if I ended up buying them something from a Big Lots instead of a Belk, but at the same time, I am afraid of breaking some sort of wedding code that I don't know about.

I just hate the concept of registries. It's basically a way for people who feel no desire to put any actual thought into buying a gift to alleviate their feelings of obligation about buying something in the first place. And I say "gift card" for people like that. Gift certificates are no more impersonal than the cheapest item that hasn't already been bought. I say if you're going to be unimaginative, then just own up to it.

I realize that most engaged people probably don't like registering either. They are essentially asking for stuff, and they know it. You have to appreciate the people who are nice enough to register at sensible places like Target or Wal-Mart. Those are practical people, who know that the same Black and Decker coffee maker works just as well when it's 20% less. Plus, as a completely selfish aside, when your items cost less, other people are more likely to buy you more of them, because they've pre-determined how much they like you and therefore, how much they're going to spend.

Bridal registries are probably a necessary evil. I can't put them on my list of wedding don'ts, because I do see their point, though I only grudgingly admit it. Not everyone who knows you well enough to buy you a present for this joyous occasion knows you well enough to pick out the exact right present. Some people simply suck at picking out gifts. And I'm a nice girl, so I would just hate to deny someone the right to buy me presents that I actually want. So there will come a day (hopefully, anyway) where I will have to register. I'm tempted to put ridiculous things on my registry. "Yes, I want a complete set of these towels (extra-large, sapphire), this shelf here (mahogany), three cans of cooked spinach, and a jukebox! Also some candy."

It's a little soon to be worrying about it all anyway. Or maybe I'll find that the reason I know so many people lacking in marriageability is because I lack it as well, and then I won't ever have to worry about this at all. I'll be worrying about entirely different things, like where I'm going to get three cans of cooked spinach, a jukebox, and some candy.