Something I never would have anticipated: At this age, “Do you want to have kids?” and “Do you want to get married?” are first-date questions. Well, they’re MY first-date questions.
So another secret thing I’m apparently willing to admit: I HATE WEDDINGS.
This is what I’ve done at weddings:
1. Called another guest a douche bag. A friend who observed this fight with a stranger (the friend was the third passenger in a limo after the reception, which is the time when I shine) commented that our fight was like an “obsessive ballet.”
2. Drunkenly walked to the edge of a gravel parking lot, ruining my shoes, sat in a field, and sobbed.
3. Drunkenly walked back to my room during the first dance of the bride and groom, climbed in bed in my dress, and sobbed.
4. Hooked up with three people (in a row, not at a time) in the only bathroom available to guests.
5. Had a long conversation with the mother of the bride during the reception (my time to shine!), forgot about it completely, then introduced myself to her in the lobby of the hotel the next morning (she made a noise and turned away).
6. Had sex in a deck chair to Frank Sinatra on the porch of the house of an afterparty (with the host) so every single person in the first group to show up got a show.
7. Had sex with someone so drunk he only spoke to me in his native Norwegian.
8. Had such ambitious sex in a bathroom with a groomsman that we tore the pictures off a wall and broke a figurine.
9. Drove a rented Fiat Panda up a hill in a remote area in Sicily because I was the only person in the car who could drive a stick shift and then got yelled at in Italian by a farmer because I hit a guardrail or something.
Also, at my own wedding, my new husband made out with my ex-girlfriend.
I’ve had serious fun at three weddings (your wedding! I swear). But that’s it. Wedding invitations give me incredible anxiety, of the WHAT AM I GOING TO DO THIS TIME variety. And I’ve always wondered why I get SO hammered at weddings. Is it because I’m having a great time with my friends and I never want the party to end?
NO. IT’S BECAUSE I HATE THE FUCKING ARTIFICE AND I’M BORED OUT OF MY MIND AND DRINKING IS THE ONLY WAY TO MAKE IT GO FASTER.
So I might want to get married again, but no wedding for me. Or you.
Rigatoni alla disgraziata contains the Italian word for “disgraced” or “wretched.”
- 1 lb. rigatoni
- 1 cup + 2 TB. olive oil
- 1 cup breadcrumbs
- 2 cups red sauce (you can make the red sauce from this recipe)
- 2 med. eggplants
- 1/4 cup ricotta salata (grated)
You need to:
- Chop the eggplant into 1-in. cubes. You can sprinkle them with salt and put them in a bowl for an hour, but I’ve read that this whole “draining the eggplant” thing is a myth and anyway I don’t do it because BORING.
- Salt and boil water for pasta.
- Pour 2 TB. oil into a large cast-iron pan and heat over medium-high heat.
- Cook breadcrumbs, stirring constantly, until they’re golden. Remove breadcrumbs and wipe out pan.
- Sauté 1/2 the eggplant until they look the way you want them to look. Put in a large bowl.
- Sauté the other half.
- Cook rigatoni.
- Warm red sauce.
- Combine pasta, eggplant, breadcrumbs, ricotta salata, and red sauce. Serve with parmigiano-reggiano (if you want).
- Reflect on the incredible luck that just as you’ve decided never to go to another wedding, you have stopped being invited to them.