When Meghan Markle and Prince Harry announced their engagement, I got an alert about it on my phone. I rolled over, squinted at it, and promptly threw it across the room. I mean, I sort of anticipated that the news was coming soon, but seeing the official announcement really sealed in the hard, cold reality of the situation: another royal freakin’ wedding.
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Meghan and Harry. In fact, I think they’re adorable together. I also think it’s refreshing that Meghan isn’t some noble with a snooty-tooty aristocratic background. The royal fangirls of the world, who are weirdly possessive over their fantasy prince, might think she’s “not good enough” and isn’t “fit to be a royal,” but that’s clearly hogwash. All it takes to be a royal is to 1.) have a large arsenal of funny-looking hats, 2.) be good at waving, and 3.) be photogenic. Meghan clearly has all three down, especially considering most actual royals can’t even pass No. 3.
Yes, I’m talking to you, Charles.
So no, my problem isn’t about Harry and Meghan’s relationship. The thing about their soon-to-be-ceremony is everything that comes attached to it. It’s the constant, unrelenting onslaught of wedding news — from the dress to the venue to the ring to the official engagement pictures being shared all over social media. It’s like a Facebook wedding announcement on steroids. I can never take a break from it, walk away from it, or passive-aggressively ignore it like I do with my friends’ announcements. It’s like being the maid-of-honor at a wedding I’m not even invited to. And if I can’t come to the royal wedding and get sloshed on free vodka and red wine, then really, what’s the point of weddings anyway?
When it comes to the royal wedding, sometimes I feel like there’s an assumption that I have to care. After all, don’t all women have some fairytale fantasy of being a lowly commoner who’s swept away into a world of romance and luxury with the help of a dashing prince who’s going to make things all better with his, I don’t know, outdated traditional gender roles or something? I don’t really get it, but judging by how successful prince-themed romance books are, clearly this is something some women are into (that, and books about handsome jerks who need to be taught how to love).
Case in point: Christian Grey.
I don’t really care what your fantasy habits are, but I do have a problem with getting beat over the head with a scenario I honestly don’t want. I’m happy for Meghan, but I have zero desire to live vicariously through her. The royals’ jobs aren’t even that drool-worthy when you think about it. Most of their days are spent attending ceremonial engagements, waving, having endless dinner parties, and towing the line around a totalitarian grandmother-in-law. When you take the “handsome prince” out of the scenario, it kind of sounds like my worst nightmare.
Let’s not forget that marrying into the family is kind of like signing your life away. Your life is scrutinized beyond belief, you’re not allowed to do anything alone, your face is on the front page of tabloids every day for the most asinine reasons, and worst of all, you have to wear a stupid, ridiculous hat all the time. I don’t know about you, but I like wearing sweatpants on Saturdays, and no, I don’t want The Daily Mail taking unflattering pictures of my mom leaving Wal-Mart. And yet, people think that type of life is a fairy tale? Ooookay.
How to cope if I hate the royal wedding?
But for those who don’t buy into the fantasy, what is it about the royal wedding that has everyone acting like it’s the Olympics of wedding ceremonies? Ever since the engagement was announced, I’ve been feeling exhausted. I’m seriously racking my brain wondering how to cope with the endless onslaught of wedding news that’s currently destroying my Twitter feed. Is there a planet I can go to for a few days where I can ride this crap out until it dies down?
I went through the same experience for Prince William and Kate Middleton‘s wedding, although for them, a small part of me was actually excited (!). I had never experienced a royal wedding before. Judging by all the commotion, I expected a ceremony that was overwhelmingly, almost obnoxiously British, full of tea, Monty Python references, and a Spice Girls reunion. I anticipated the bride to be covered from head to toe in royal jewels, so heavy she couldn’t move, while being carried on the backs of a championship cricket team while singing Adele. Wouldn’t you want to wake up at 4 a.m. to watch that? But in the end, it was just…an average ceremony.
Cute but, honestly, I should’ve slept in. (Photo Credit: Giphy)
And I guess that’s the real reason I hate royal weddings. They’re the epitome of “anticipation with no reward.” Meghan and Harry might get something from it, but all I get is the loss of time that could’ve been spent on other things, like refreshing my inbox or stalking friends on Instagram. But it’s the principle of the matter that’s important. I don’t like being forced to care about things I don’t, especially a family that’s, frankly, kind of terrible. Is that wrong to not care? Surely I’m not the only one. But it doesn’t matter anyway. For now, I’m just going to figure out how the heck can I turn off news alerts on my phone and try to sleep until June when this whole mess will be over — or at least until the next wedding.