Weddings and Pointlessness

Spent the weekend in LA. It's nice to escape. But it makes it so much more annoying and pathetic to come back to this ridiculously pointless life I have here. Makes me wish I had never come back. That I could live in the make believe all the time. How sad is that? Anyway, I went back to work today, exhausted from the whole trip. I'm still exhausted. But I ended up going to have dinner with a girlfriend who is getting married in October. She moved to San Fran back in January or February and I haven't seen her since. So I show up to dinner, thinking it's going to be her, me, and one other woman. I get there, the boy is there, along with some other women and blah blah blah. So I end up having dinner with my friend and a bunch of other women I don't know or barely know, and I'm already depressed because sometimes the pointlessness of my life and the minutia that keep it going are almost too much to comprehend or shoulder. Then I realize that I'm the only person there who isn't involved in the wedding. I'm not a bridesmaid, I'm nothing. And I start wondering what the fuck I'm doing there, because not only do I not know these people, but I'm not excited about a wedding that is 4 months away and I don't have a date for even though it is a great place to go. And I probably won't have a date come along anyway. Which is yet another wedding for which I will show up alone and depressed and sit at a table with a bunch of other single strangers and pretend to be happy and force conversation with them and feel awkward and either just wait for it to be over or drink a ridiculous amount of alcohol until I don't feel feelings anymore.

Have I ever had a date to a wedding? Hmm. Thinking. Wait, yes. Once. With a guy who dumped me a few days later because he was a giant asshole. You would think I would be used to this by now, but somehow it never gets old. Watching other people get together, pair off, be happy together, while I sit alone, tell the wedding planner my plus one didn't make it, and watch them scramble because now there is an odd number at table number 7. I fucking hate this world. This life. All of it. What the fuck is the point of being a good person and trying to make yourself better if no one gives a fuck? I could be a playmate or win a Nobel Peace Prize and no one would bother to learn my fucking name. Or spend more than an hour talking to me. So yes, it all feel stupid and pointless. Even more so when there is a wedding involved. Fuck this.