I was at a wedding last weekend – my cousin’s kid. Big fancy affair. All the trimmings. White dress, church, the whole damn thing. My parents, they’re getting old, you know? Eighty-somethin’. And they live for these family things. Seriously, it's like their Super Bowl. So I went. And I smiled. And I clapped at all the right times. Even teared up a little during the vows (allergies, probably). It was… a performance. A really good one, actually. I should get paid for that kinda acting. (Not that anyone *would* pay for that, given my luck.) The whole thing – it just felt… old. Outdated. Like something from a movie from fifty years ago. All the stuff about the man being the head of the house, the woman being the support, the "giving away" of the bride. Like she’s property, you know? And I just kept thinking, this is 2024. My parents ate it up, though. My dad, he was beaming. My mom, tearing up too, but for real. Said it was beautiful. The way things *should* be. And I just… smiled. And nodded. And made sure they saw me smiling. Because what the fuck am I gonna do? Start a scene? Ruin their day? They’ve had enough shit to deal with in their lives. And I definitely don't need another reason for them to worry about me (or my lack of a pension plan, or my car that's making that weird noise again). But god, it felt wrong. Like I was betraying everything I actually believe in. Everything I’ve fought for my whole life – or tried to, anyway. (It’s hard to fight for much when you’re always chasing the next gig, trying to make rent.) And it’s not like I don’t believe in love, or commitment, or anything. Just… not like *that*. Not that whole patriarchal bullshit wrapped up in a pretty bow. So I toasted the happy couple. And I danced. And I tried not to think about how much I wanted to scream. And now I’m here, wide awake, feeling like a total fraud. And maybe a little bit like a coward. What the hell did I even accomplish by staying quiet? Nothing, probably. Just made myself sick to my stomach. Great.