"So Polly, when is it your turn?" the Delightful Young Man asked while we were out at dinner. He had just flown into Melbourne for work and we caught up on the woes gone by in the past year.

Which, namely, for me was my disastrous debut as a bridesmaid in April. My friendship with Bridezilla still hangs by a thread.

"I think after that episode, I am off weddings in general." I said bluntly.

"How long has it been now? Two years? Surely you think about it?" DYM fired off a series of questions, "Even daydream about a diamond here and there?"

"Yes, but only in terms of how much I can haggle with that Israeli jeweller on Swanston Street. " I said, referring to the jeweller who Miss Unsubtle had gotten her bling from. This guy can get you any cut of diamond you want, at any size. Sometimes, he even flies to Antwerp himself to pick it up. Visiting him is like a scene out of a Guy Ritchie film.

"See. You do think about it."

"But not in some pink vomit way," I hastily defended myself.

We ate our entrees in silence as I thought about "it" a bit more.

"You know what I do think about a lot?" I started to confess. "The music. Bridezilla paid something like five grand for the three piece jazz band at her wedding. I could save that and do it myself!"

"What? You're going to sing at your own wedding?"

"No. Don't be stupid. That would leave no time to drink," I scoffed and started again at the subject I had been thinking a lot about. "I know music. And I know good music. And what's more, le Garçon knows even more than me about music. I will have the best music at my wedding. It won't cost me anything because it's all in my CD collection and iTunes. It'll be Polly's wedding collection full of the most romantic yet not so cheesy tunes. It'll be the best mixed tape ever! My definitive version of the best mix tape!"

"So it will be like being trapped in car with you and being made to listen to all your CDs during a very long road trip," DYM wasn't convinced.

"No! Not all CDs! Just a mix tape! And what better time to show case it than at my wedding because people will be made to listen to it! We'll start off with Al Green's 'Let's Stay Together' and then throw in a bit of Ella, Billie and Frank - the originals - none of this Michael Bublé bullshit. A bit of Rufus and Queen for laughs. You know, songs that ticks in peoples' head with 'wow, that really captures the two of them.' Oh and there's this one I heard recently..."

Like a mix tape, I think DYM stopped listening by track four. But come my wedding, he'll oblige.

Miss Unsubtle quit with five weeks to go. A drawn out process following over a year of "It's my wedding! It's my life!"

I remain. Reluctantly.

December 2006. "I'm engaged! Look at the ring! Groom-to-be-of-Bridezilla got it from Charles Rose! Will you be my bridesmaid? My chief bridesmaid?" Screams and hugs followed.

February 2007. At a bridal expo, "This is my chief bridesmaid, Polly."

May 2007. Through tears in a busy cafe, "I'm trying to make everyone happy! I'm trying to please everyone! It's going to be a pink dress!"

July 2007. "Oh Polly! Thank you for finding my wedding dress with me!"

August 2007. "I don't care about the starving kids in Africa! The photographer is $6000 and he's GOOD!"

December 2007. To Miss Unsubtle, "Sometimes, I think Polly only wanted to be my bridesmaid because she's in competition with Tuck Shop Lady Arms (TSLA)."

January 2008. "If I was the bridesmaid, I would have all weekends in the two months leading up to the wedding free for the bride. Polly should have told me that she has a wedding to attend on the day I want to have my Hens."

February 2008. "Miss Unsubtle, I am not unreasonable, I am selfless. It's not like I have been a bridezilla. Just get along with my lovely friend who called you and Polly manipulative. It's my wedding. Just be happy for me. It should be about me."

February 2008. "I can't believe Miss Unsubtle just quit."

February 2008. "I never wanted Polly to be my chief bridesmaid. If I had a choice, it would have been Arse Crawler."

February 2008. "Polly, TSLA is going to be Miss Unsubtle's replacement. I always wanted her to be the bridesmaid but you were uncomfortable about it because she used to go out with The Boy. I'm just selfless like that."

March 2008. "Polly, I've paired Arse Crawler with the Best Man because she is the only one who is married. All my bridesmaids are the same to me. There's no chief bridesmaid. What? Oh that ceremony program just says Arse Crawler is the Matron of Honour, but all my bridesmaids are the same to me."

A rather good summary of events. So come Sunday next week, as the Wedding March plays and TSLA waddles down the aisle...

The Boy thinks to himself, "I tapped that."

And as I gracefully glide toward the alter...

The Boy thinks smugly to himself, "I'm tapping that."

It is like rain on your wedding day. A black fly in your chardonnay.

My friend, Gigglesworth, sent an email in which she wrote the following regarding the upcoming big move south:

I think ------ is an arse. Not worth losing sleep over. You've got that wonderful adventure ahead of you in Melbourne.
And don't forget the AFL hotties!!!!!!!!!!!! Too hot!!!

But as the date draws nearer, I am dreading it more. I even think that the aforementioned hot football players are not as enticing as the familiar friends in Sydney. A well toned six-pack has nothing over Pixie's sardonic conversations. Nor does it beat the Mallavian Whiz's unbelievably strange and yet obliging ways.

I fear that this blog will become less funny in the months to come. It will probably be splattered with complaints of loneliness as I struggle to find my footing. Hopefully, funny anecdotes will still find its way here.

This has to be my most un-funny post. Perhaps, I will sign off with something humourous for old times sake.

Think. Think of something funny. The audience awaits.

Oh, yes. At the wedding of High School Rival and Chubby Solicitor last Sunday -- for which I looked so devastatingly luscious that I kind of felt bad for the bride -- we were given soap bubbles to blow instead of throwing confetti after the ceremony. The child in me was very excited; colourful bubbles in the sunlight! I haven't had such a delight since childhood!

The bridal party was late due to the bride's father sudden loss of directions. Suspicious, considering he's taxi driver. But I was happy at the opportunity to play with the soap bubbles that came in a miniature keepsake bottle.

Pop! went the dove shaped lid. Shit! said Polly as bottle slipped out of her hand and all the soapy liquid spilt down the front of her outrageously beautiful pink silk ruffled dress.

As High School Rival and Chubby Solicitor promised to grow old together, I sheepishly tried to pretend that I was not a two-year-old who had just peed down the front of my dress.