I�ll tell ya � I�m glad that I only have a handful of bosom buddies now. The fat has been cut � either by me, or by ex-friends, me being the fat. It�s a good thing. Emotional streamlining. One should not be a friend with anyone who is glad to see one fail or does not have time or energy for one to cry or be a basket case. I�ll have to go to far fewer weddings this way. Thank the great good lord for that.

I do have one wedding to squeeze into this week, though.

There is something singularly odd about looking at someone�s online wedding registry. Especially when you know she is getting married because she thinks it is the correct way out of her wild life � that a white dress will kill all of the demons. Will an electric skillet, electric griddle, and a 12-cup muffin pan really make a lady forget? I suppose to some young women, forgetting even for a few hours is worth it. That�s some pain.

There are certain places in the country where therapy isn�t even considered an option. The very young woman moves on after sexual assault. That�s that. Sometimes a very young woman finds a man she doesn�t deem completely abhorrent and marries him. That will solve all of her problems. She will never take another drink, smoke a cigarette, or taste a drop of caffeine. And she surely won�t think about her past. And if she begins to, well, there are babies for that.

I would say the family looks at her wedding as a temporary solution � like, �let�s distract her with this shiny ball while we set up an intervention,� but I�m talking here about (relatively, if that makes sense) fundamentalist Christians. One gets all, �sealed for eternity� when one gets married. Why, then, do they get married so damn young? Even we who don�t think divorce is a one-way ticket to H-E-double-hockey-sticks take our time to decide with whom we might like to spend the rest of our lives, let alone the afterlife.

It�s not a situation where she�s fallen madly in love. No one was sure until about a week ago that the wedding was really going to happen. We only got an invitation a few days ago. I mean, we had plans to go, we were invited back when they got engaged. The mother only just called to say, �Well, the wedding�s on.�

I�m not judging this young lady (too much). Our lives are different. I just feel bad that in a few years she will probably start to wonder why she isn�t happy and �what�s wrong with me� and the whole song and dance done by women across the globe, alone, in their living rooms, unaware of another woman, also wringing her hands, at the same bay window next door. My mother scrunched a tissue in her hand until her fingers bled, four toddlers ambling around the house. That was the fifties. We have Oprah for these things now.