Musings on sister’s wedding

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Not having seen the film “Wedding Crashers,” I can’t compare last summer’s hit movie to my sister’s recent wedding.

However, I’m sort of proud to admit, we had our own wedding crashers at the reception, which was held at an old hotel in Washington, D.C.

That was just one of the slightly wacky things that happened that weekend. Also, my mom’s dress tore just before the ceremony (no major damage done). And my cousin got a sleeveful of chocolate fountain during the party (it was a rented tux).

No, I was reminded, at times, more of Shakespeare’s play “The Taming of the Shrew.”

I didn’t know this until recently, but I’m supposed to feel funny about the fact that my little sister by six years, the youngest of us three Bloch girls, got married before me.

At least, that’s what I was told during the trip home.

It all happened the night of the bachelorette party.

The two of us not getting married decided that the perfect Girls Night Out would involve some sort of baseball game.

The three sisters, plus a now sister-in-law and a close friend of the bachelorette, piled into my car and headed into Philadelphia for the game (a Red Sox win!). Afterward we drove into the city to find a hip bar at which we could get my sister soused.

We attracted a lot of attention at first when we walked into the Continental, a sort of swanky martini bar for the masses, because we made my sister wear a veil and a flashing “Bride-to-Be” button.

As we waited near the bar for the round of pink and red something-tinis we ordered, a man standing next to our group turned to us two other sisters and said, “Who’s getting married?”

That’s our little sister, we answered. She’s getting married next weekend.

He offered his congratulations. Then he asked if either of us were married.

No and no, we answered.

The guy paused. What’s the age difference, he wanted to know. We told him we were both older by at least five years.

He looked shocked. Then he said, “What’s wrong with you?”

We looked at each other and sort of nervously laughed. We had no idea how to respond. We’re both in relationships, so it wasn’t like we’re totally without prospects, but I never once thought about the fact that my little sister was getting married before me.

As I’ve thought about it since that night in Philadelphia, I remembered that my now-married sister had actually brought it up around the time she got engaged last summer.

I recalled that she asked me if I was mad or upset that she was getting married first. No, I had answered, of course not.

So I started to wonder. Am I supposed to feel funny about my youngest sister getting married before me? Am I supposed to feel bad because the baby sister got things sorted out before me? Was she supposed to wait? Was I supposed to get my love life settled first?

What was this, I felt like spitting back at the bar guy, some Shakespearean comedy where sweet little Bianca can’t get married before older, grumpy monster Katherina?

Once the relatives started pouring into town for the wedding I got lots of your-time-will-come, don’t-worry-it’ll-happen-for-you talk. I just smiled and nodded, like most of us do when relatives give us unwanted pep talks about our love lives.

Still, as the wedding grew near I can honestly say I never once got wistful or felt bad that my baby sister was walking down the aisle first.

Sure, I was jealous about other things that happened through the course of her engagement. She and her fiance got some pretty cool presents. And my sister looked more beautiful and happy than I’ve ever seen her. I sure hope I look like she did when I get married.

But I’m in no rush for it all, especially not because of someone else’s ideas of what’s right.

The guy at the bar in Philadelphia eventually became disinterested with us. No matter. What does he know about love and marriage, anyway? Later in the evening we saw him sneak some food off a plate left by someone at the table next to us.

Looks like he’s the one who needs to grow up.

Jessica Bloch can be reached at jbloch@bangordailynews.net