There is a secret folder on my computer.
I created it a few years ago, when I realised my embarrassing secret needed to be contained, and contained quietly. Nobody knows about this folder. It just sits there, patiently, inconspicuously, waiting to be filled with fresh material.
The folder is labelled “Rosie’s Tax Invoices”. But it’s not filled with ‘Rosie’s tax invoices’ (I’m 28 and I still have a Pez Dispenser collection – I’m not even close to being that organised).
No – the “tax” label is a genius and complex ruse, designed to keep prying eyes from snooping at my secret shame. You know how people panic about their internet history getting into the wrong hands? That’s how I feel about this folder. So, should my future husband John Oliver ever happen to find my computer after I leave it on the bus (or, more realistically, should my little sister ever borrow my computer without asking), my flawless tax label plan means they’ll never find out my humiliating secret.
Because the fact is, the folder on my computer labelled Rosie’s Tax Invoices is actually filled with… Oh god… I can’t even say it…
The folder on my computer labelled Rosie’s Tax Invoices is actually filled with wedding stuff.
So. Much. Wedding. Stuff.
And I don’t even have a boyfriend. Oh god this is humiliating.
I honestly don’t know how it started. I just found a picture of a ring I liked one day, and before I knew it, I was making fake folders and disguising jpegs and signing up to the Vera Wang website. There have even been times I’ve turned down social invitations because I was so far down a Pinterest ‘funky table setting’ rabbit hole, it just didn’t feel worth it to leave the house.
The folder would easily have at least 500 pictures in it by now, although I stopped counting a couple of years ago. Engagement rings, flowers, wedding dresses, invitations, bridesmaids gowns, shoes, suits for the groom, lighting, food… I’ve got it all covered in my mysterious folder of lies.
There is wedding inception on my laptop – that’s how deep this thing goes. Just like the folder they are hidden in, each jpeg has its own special name so as to avoid detection. That oval diamond with the dainty gold band? ‘Editorial Meeting June 2013’. The Johanna Johnson dress that has the sleeves I like? ‘Payslip May 2012’.
Rosie’s Tax Invoices is like the Bermuda Triangle of shame on my computer – I can’t go in there without my dignity disappearing.
But how did I end up here? How did I end up knee-deep in a creepy cesspool of wedding picture shame?
I was never the girl who cared about weddings. I was never really the girl who cared about anything girly.
While other little ladies were dressed as princesses, I was kicking a kid out of my birthday party for refusing to concede that the Ninja Turtles were better than Batman (they were and continue to be and I won’t hear another word about it). While my sister was in her room with friends putting on makeup and dancing to Ace of Base, I was curled up in bed reading Goosebumps, waiting for the Seinfeld stand up special to come on so I could tape it onto a blank VHS.
I was a dweeb. I was definitely not the girl who owned a frilly scrapbook with the words ‘Dream Day’ written on the cover with glitter glue. But now I have the equivalent of that scrapbook on my laptop, just waiting to be filled with inspo photos from the SS 2015 Monique Lhuillier collection.
So what the hell has happened to me? WHY AM I OBSESSED WITH PLANNING MY WEDDING?
After trying to break it down in my brain (i.e. imagining what Oprah would say), I think I may have figured it out:
I’m not looking forward to my wedding day. I’m looking forward to all the days that come after the wedding day. I’m looking forward to having a husband who I love and who loves me and who thinks I’m funny. I’m looking forward to having little babies who I can teach to play the Super Nintendo I will never throw out. I’m looking forward to putting the kids to bed and curling up with a glass of wine with a guy who makes me laugh. I’m basically looking forward to being able to create the family that I never had.
And to me, in some weird little part of my brain, my wedding day symbolises the official start of all of that, and that’s why I like to fantasise about it. I like to think about what dress I’ll be wearing the day some lucky dude signs a piece of paper that says he would like to be my family, always.
Or maybe I’m just totally bonkers and men would be very wise to steer clear of the 29-year-old single girl and her secret folder filled with lace samples and wedding cakes.
I guess it really could go either way.
Want to read Rosie’s recaps of The Bachelor 2015? Right this way.
Rosie Recaps: Bachie Wood meets his 19 girlfriends.
Rosie Recaps: Bachie Wood makes Oshie break up with THREE girls for him.
You should follow Rosie Waterland on Facebook right here. Also, she’s written her first book (which she thinks is quite humorous) and it’s coming out soon. Pre-order it by clicking RIGHT HERE.