I went to a wedding this weekend. God I love weddings. Everyone is just so fucking happy. It’s really the only place where it’s sociably acceptable to get drunk on cheap liquor served in plastic cups and squeal like a twelve year-old girl at the Twilight premiere when the Macarena starts up.
The traditional cast of characters at a wedding doesn’t really change no matter who is getting married. You have the relative that drinks way too much and either dances like a total asshole or starts a fight with someone – he’s usually worth the price of admission right there. Then of course there is the older woman who you can tell probably used to be attractive, but now is sporting a terribly unfortunate outfit and is still under the impression she is very hot in that short, low cut, strapless ensemble that is embarrassing the SHIT out of her teenage son.
The bridesmaids are always fun to watch – half of them are all about fixing the bride’s dress when it bunches, making sure the photographer is adequately documenting the day, etc. The other half are getting shit faced and trying to decide which groomsmen they are going to let feel them up in the coatroom.
I for one always beeline to the first gay guy I see and immediately make him my friend. Gay dudes are hands down the best wedding companions. They like to check out the outfits and hot guys just like a girlfriend does, but they bring the added bonus of being able to do a little bathroom re-con and report back on who’s packin’.
Oh shut up - like you never use your gay friends for evil.
Sadly, nary a queer was in sight this weekend and I was flying solo. I ditched the assigned seating chart about five minutes after the ceremony was over when I quickly realized that Cutie Pie was flying solo too and then spent the evening as his pseudo date. I really miss that guy. Aside from the fact that it’s hard to look at him without wanting to lick his face off, he’s just an all around cool guy. He’s kind of quiet and seems perfectly content to deal with my incessant drunken chatter which makes him the perfect date, really. You know, if neither of us were married and in love with other people* (and I was ten years younger and fifty pounds lighter)……..let’s just say I wouldn’t need my gay friends to follow him into the bathroom. Anyway….where was I? Oh yeah…weddings.
I have two close friends (*cough* KEELY and CARRIE) who should be planning their weddings as we speak but seem content to go against everything that is holy and just live in sin. Clearly they are not thinking of baby Jesus. Or even more importantly, ME. They know how much I love weddings! Why can't they simply acquiesce to my wishes and just get married already? Don’t they realize how much I would add to their wedding? I am the perfect candidate for acting the cool aunt and getting the 13 year-old cousins drunk. And who would be better at leading the drunken loco-motion around the room? I’m even up for hauling all that leftover pizza from the midnight buffet to the gift opening the following morning to the delight of all the hangovers.
I'm even willing to be dressed in a hideous pea-green monstrosity covered in lace with a huge satin bow on my ass. Provided it allows proper access for coatroom groping, of course.
*cute ex-coworkers aside, I love the hubby more. And he's AWESOME at making out in coatrooms. The Hubby, not Cutie Pie. I mean, I'm sure CP would be good at making out in coatrooms too, but you'd have to ask his wife about that.