Sometimes you don’t get a plus one. It’s not that big of a deal, because you have no idea who you would bring anyway. But it’s nice to have the option, you know, in case the sexy barista at your morning coffee stop suddenly realizes you’ve been flirting with him for the past 2 months.
You pester your couple friends to give you a ride so you don’t have to show up alone. Then you end up sitting alone in a pew for 20 minutes “saving” seats.
You stand in the corner, double fisting Jameson ginger’s during the open bar cocktail hour, using your hawk eyes to scan for single men. You see only 3, possibly 4, and cry a little inside.
You get sat at a table with 3 couples and their single friend that you’re obviously supposed to hit it off with. This is, of course, impossible to do after every one of them awkwardly introduces you with a wink.
You get kind of drunk and approach the 4th single guy, the one you weren’t sure was single or not. His girlfriend informs you he definitely is not single. They start fighting about why you thought he was single.
You get annoyed at being at the very last table in the room and therefore having to be last through the buffet. You decide the wedding planner releasing tables won’t notice one guest going rogue and budge into the buffet line prematurely. This is one of those rare moments when you triumph over people in relationships.
You realize you’re drunker and more desperate than previously recognized when you tell the buffet attendant slicing the roast “Hey, I like the way you’re slicing that meat. Put your meat on my plate.”
You’re pretty damn happy she chose not to do a bouquet toss, because you’re 90% sure you would be the only one out there.
You get scolded by the DJ over the loudspeaker for bringing your drink onto the dance floor and spilling it repeatedly. He refuses to take any of your song requests for the rest of the night.
You slow dance with your beer for the last song just to stick it to the DJ and because the adorable ring bearer has more game than you and was already taken.