“It’s wedding season,” said Maria, the lovely older woman who does my facial chemical peels every few months. Aside from making me nauseous, the phrase got me thinking: why does anyone go through the ordeal of planning a wedding?

Which isn’t the same as inquiring why anyone would get married. I mean, that befuddles me too, but every now and then, I get it. It’s the wedding planning that’s thoroughly perplexing.

Months and months of deciding this, trying on that. Fluffy white dresses. Multi-tiered cakes. Venue tours. Save-the-dates with a phony, staged photo. Invitations with a slightly different phony, staged photo. Tablecloths. Flower arrangements. Gift registries. Not to mention spending obscene amounts of money on a day that comes and goes, just like any other day.

It all feels so fake and self-involved, self-celebratory. It doesn’t feel real. Why all that? What’s the point? Go to the courthouse. Sign some papers. Party with your peeps.

I don’t know whether I’ll ever get married, but I can confidently proclaim: I will never plan a wedding.