I’ve never been to a wedding.

“OMGZ, LIKE… MY LYFE IS $O HARD, U GUYZ.”

But no, it’s true. No fancy schmancy gold foil invitations on acid-free paper for this broad. I’ve never even been invited to a city hall “signing of the papers,” let alone asked to be a bridesmaid. If this doesn’t count as a sob story, then someone needs to tell Steven Tyler to quit his bitching. When is this guy going to croak?

Fact: Steven Tyler’s lips will outlive him.

It makes sense, given my age demographic and how we are no longer living in the 1940s. And I guess it’s a good thing that the neo-feminists of the 21st century have been raised not to say “I do” to the first guy that tries to get funky with their nips and tucks at the drive-in theater. Listen up, guys—your convertible does not impress me. Leather seats make me gassy.

But sorry for digressing. Because this is not a matter of believing in marriage and/or relationships. And after seeing multiple Facebook albums of awkward conga lines with second cousins twice removed and middle-aged women getting into wrestling matches over some facking flowers, I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on something important (or at least embarrassingly cliché). The only problem is me not having any friends who are planning to get hitched in the near future.

Basically, what needs to happen is this.

Someone needs to get knocked up, preferably within the next year or so. Here’s looking at you, [name redacted].

Is it too much to ask?

All I want from life is to know what it feels like to wear taffeta and dance drunk to the Armageddon theme song.