I felt really bad because I had to decline being a wedding sponsor again—this time for the daughter of a high school batchmate.
The first time she asked was in December, during our batch Christmas party. I politely replied, “Huwag na lang ako, ayaw ko—iba na lang.”
That same afternoon, I sent her a long message to reiterate that I did not want to be a ninang at the wedding. I thought that was the end of it. I trusted that she understood and respected my decision.
Then, a few days ago, she sent me the wedding details—the date, the church, and even the officiating priest, who is also a batchmate of ours.
I felt bad having to repeat myself that I still did not want to be a wedding sponsor. I honestly thought she already knew from the beginning that ayaw kong maging ninang sa kasal.
Sobra akong na stress.
Kung maaari talaga, huwag na lang ako. Marami naman ibang puwedeng piliin. Siguro may psychological issue ako, but I’m really just following what I feel—ayoko talaga. I honestly don’t know how my aversion to being a wedding sponsor started.
My mother was a favorite ninang sa kasal.
I witnessed how she prepared for every occasion—the dress, the hair, the polbo. The night before, she would spend hours at the beauty parlor for a perfectly coiffed hairstyle, manicure, and pedicure. She would practically sleep sitting up just so her hair wouldn’t get ruined. With hardly any sleep, she’d wake up very early to get ready. And of course, there was always a beautifully wrapped wedding gift.
Then I would wake up in the middle of the night to find two strangers sleeping in our bedroom, in our antique wrought-iron bed with suliya.
The next morning, the newly married couple—apparently spending their first night of honeymoon in our house, courtesy of the ninang—would still be there. Sometimes, the honeymooners even stayed for another day.
My mother had become not only a wedding sponsor but a “second parent”—pangalawang magulang. Many times, I would find couples in our house, venting their marital problems, while my mom listened intently and offered her very serious, and very solicited, ninang advice.
Siguro, the effect on me was negative. Parang naguluhan ako. In today’s lingo, it was extremely stressful.
I know being a ninang sa kasal is a big honor. Of all people, I was chosen. I’m supposed to feel flattered, honored, grateful—lahat na. But pasensya na kayo, ayoko talaga. Bisita na lang ako.
Kung nag-aaway kayo or the couple needed any advice, I can easily be reached. I don’t need to be the official wedding sponsor to do this. No age limit. You can be 30 or 80, I can give you free marriage counselling.
Kung gustong mag first night honeymoon sa bahay namin, hmmm, huwag na lang, sa motel na lang kayo pumunta kasi makalat na ang guest room namin. It’s like an extension of Toys R Us. We have no more guest rooms. Yung isa now looks like a warehouse of luggage, Christmas decorations, balikbayan boxes, dinner plates, and other kalat. Yung isa, Baby Dylan occupies it as a daytime nursery. It’s full of his stuff.
When I was 30 years old, I told those who wanted me to be their ninang that I was still too young to be a ninang sa kasal. Sabi ko, saka na when I turned 50.
Malapit na ngayon akong mag-70 ganyan pa rin ang drama ko. Maybe next year, I will agree to be a ninang to one couple. Ang arte ko.
(Photo: My first ever “wedding ninang”, May 2025. I forgot the name of my partner. He was the uncle of the bride and very close to her family. He lives in Los Angeles.)
