I’m going to a wedding this weekend.

In my old South Florida life, this wouldn’t be all that out of the ordinary. But this is L.A.; I’m a transplanted aspiring director; and this is only the second L.A. wedding I’ve been invited to by a friend in five years.

Here in L.A., most of my friends come from somewhere else, and they come and they go. They don’t own houses, they don’t have kids, and they aren’t getting married. Their families don’t live here. They aren’t here for the holidays. I’m committed to making the city my home, but sometimes it seems like every one around me is just biding their time.

I want to break through. I want to build a life here. Roots that dig down into the earth and branches that reach up towards the sky.

I love weddings. I think they’re important, meaningful. I think they rain positive energy down on those who attend and witness. It’s an energy that’s become rare in my life, although I strive to stay open to it. I remain convinced that one day L.A. will be home the way South Florida was. If I don’t leave. If I commit to this city and this life. If I work really, really hard and never give up.

So, a wedding invite and a boyfriend – almost mundane in The Time Before Film School - now A Small Miracle. Except.

This is L.A., and we are both aspiring to grow in our creative endeavors. And because of his way of making his way, we only just found out he could go. And I found out yesterday that it was too late to add him to the guest list unless someone cancels. Truth be told, I felt like a total asshole even asking if he could indeed come a mere week before the wedding. I felt like, how is this my life? How am I this person? Embarrassing.

But it couldn’t be helped. He told me as soon as he could, and I asked, and it was too late. I should be grown-up about this. All the facts are immutable. It is what it is.

So now, I have a boyfriend, and this wedding invitation, but ne’er the twain shall meet. And while I feel horribly melodramatic, and am being infinitely hard on myself for said melodrama, I am heartbroken about it.

I wanted company for the long drive. I wanted him to meet my friends and to have been at their wedding. I wanted to bask in the romance with his hand in mine. I wanted it to be our first wedding together.

OK. End Whiny Rant.

Because that's enough of that. By the end of the day yesterday, I'd come back around to what actually matters, what's truly important: That I have two wonderful friends getting married, that I was invited to share their day, that my boyfriend and I found each other in the L.A. dating pool, and that I had someone to try to bring with me, even if it doesn't work out. (Last night, my boyfriend suggested I stay positive that someone ends up canceling. While I don't really wish for my friends that another guest doesn't end up coming, at least this way, if someone does cancel, they'll have someone (totally yummy!) to fill the seat.)

At the end of the day, love is in the air, and that alone is a true blessing, and something I am beyond thankful for.

~

Related reading:

Wedding themes and other babbles.

(because you know I love some good stream-of-consciousness)

reader, i married him.

(a heroically long and wonderful post about wedding bliss)

missing pam.

(a truly heartbreaking post of loss, to bring me back around to what’s really important)

Contributing editor Liz Rizzo also blogs at Everyday Goddess and On The Lot.