-When my single buddy Jeff returned home from a wedding last week, I asked him if he had any more coming up. He said no. “This summer?” I asked. “No,” he clarified. “No more weddings at all. Literally everyone I know is married.” Because Jeff is three years older than me, it struck me that I will soon meet the same fate. After all, it was 2006 when I first described the growing rift between people who are already married or about to tie the knot (“the Haves”), and those of us who are too emotionally insecure and sexually adventurous to even consider settling down (“the Have-Knots”). Since I hit my thirties, the conflict has only grown. Have-Knots are a dying breed. Our habitat – the singles table – is being wiped out. Our only hope is to recruit a new generation of forward-thinking, unattached individuals (after trying to sleep with them first, of course).

-I feel like my recently married female friends are suddenly supportive of my lascivious ways. The reason, I’m convinced, is that women don’t want other women to be happy. If I’m sleeping around and being a dick, I represent one less prospect – and my married girl friends can bask in the knowledge that they got hitched when the going was good. It’s so depraved I’m actually a little impressed.

-Two of my best friends, Chi and Cat, are getting married next month. Chi sent an email to the wedding party, informing the guys we would be wearing tan suits. No one has a fucking tan suit or wants to buy or rent one, and so a flurry of hateful reply-to-alls ensued. Chi eventually acquiesced and is now allowing us to wear black suits instead. It was the first successful Groomsmen Rebellion in recorded wedding history.

-Last year, one of my fraternity brothers called me the week his wedding invitations went out to inform me I would not be getting one. He was actually doing it out of courtesy and not to be a dick, and I took it as such. Plus, it was the best news I’d heard all day, since I saved so much money by not going to his wedding. Basically, my buddy wrote me a check for $500 and then said he was sorry about it. No need to apologize, my man.

-One no-brainer in any wedding ceremony is to have a cute little ring bearer or flower girl. Even I can’t help but smile at that. But the cutoff is when the kid is too young to fucking walk. No one wants to see a newborn get pushed down the aisle in a stroller. Get a child actor. If I have to rent a suit you can certainly bring in a ringer to toss rose petals.

-I’ve had the same cleaning woman all five years I’ve lived in LA, and she told me she was going to send me an invitation to her upcoming wedding, but I never got anything. I was disappointed because she’s Guatemalan and I feel like it would have been a great experience and a total blast. I’m also a little offended. I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t know my address.

-Ex-Girlfriend, the chick I dated back in New York, got married this past weekend. So, essentially, if I had continued on that path, or not moved to LA, I could be married right now. It’s weird how life is like one of those old-school “Choose Your Own Adventure” books. One fateful decision means the difference between becoming a Have or a Have-Knot. (And I guess divorce is when you cheat, skip back a few pages, and choose again.) I’m happy that Ex-G is happy; she deserves it. But I shudder to think how easily I could be the one picking out tan suits and imperiously uninviting people. I chose wisely.

-As always, here are some random things I’ve been ruminating about lately…

-The pedals on the exercise bike in my gym are marked Left and Right. Think about that. It’s an exercise bike. There’s no way you can get on that shit backwards.

-Can’t find that crucial document you were just looking at? You left it in the copy machine, every time.

-Please remove the plus sign from in front of the phone number in your email signature. No one is calling you from overseas. You share a cubicle with two other people, one of whom does not even possess a high school diploma. Your phone probably doesn’t even have long distance. Your pathetic delusions of grandeur amuse me.

-I love when an Out-of-Office auto-reply informs me that the person in question doesn’t even work at the company anymore. It’s just so dramatic, right? “The employee you are trying to reach will not be available…ever!” Every once in a while I’ll get one where the person has merely set their OOO to the latest possible return date. It’s like, “Jane Smith will be out of the office until January 1, 3015.” Whoa!!!

-The sound a blender makes when you first turn it on never seems right.

-Is it bad that I think I’d like to be in a relationship just so I can have someone to clean up the hairline on the back of my neck every couple of weeks? With that taken care of, I could potentially go years without a haircut. It might even be worth the monogamy.

-The Genius Bar in Apple stores is no different than an auto mechanic. The dude could tell me anything is wrong with my computer and I would have no way to verify it. Plus, the “geniuses” are such weirdoes. The other day I had a guy literally press my MacBook Pro up to his ear and listen to it like the Laptop Whisperer. Listen, Jeremy, I don’t need your fucking earwax all up in my trackpad. Take a bath for God’s sake.

-I overheard a woman at the bank bragging how her eighth-grade grandson downloaded tons of books onto his Kindle to take with him to summer camp. I wondered if she realized just how many pieces that Kindle was mostly likely already smashed into.

-And, finally, next month, when my friends Chi and Cat get married, I will be participating in a way I never imagined. They’ve asked me to officiate their wedding, meaning I will be sworn in as a Deputy Civil Marriage Commissioner in Santa Barbara County, and actually perform the ceremony. It’s a great honor for sure, and one I do not take lightly. I’ve taken it upon myself to write the greatest service ever, and eliminate everything the priest or rabbi usually blabs on about even though no one gives a shit. Although I’m accustomed to speaking in front of hundreds if not thousands of people, I’ve never felt more pressure than this performance. When Chi and Cat put the rings on each other’s fingers and I pronounce them husband and wife, it promises to be a moment they will remember forever. And as soon as I hit the open bar, one I’ll quickly forget. Fuck me.

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