Weddings are fun

Weddings are fun- especially when they’re not your own.

Don’t get me wrong; despite my endless attempts at self-destruction, my wedding was nothing less than amazing.

I spent a week on the beach with my friends drinking Dominican Rum and generally making a fool of myself until my friend (thank you Laura) shoved me into a wedding dress and threw me down the aisle. And when me and my mariachi band got to the end- oh yeah I said mariachi band baby- well then I got to marry this super cute boy. It was pretty sweet.

I know. Fabulous. 

But at your own wedding you’re kind of all over the place. Is everything perfect? Is everyone having fun? Christ I can’t breathe in this dress. Can I possibly smile for another moment without breaking my face? Oh crap I have to pee. What if I have to poo? Do my friends love me enough to hold 300 layers of tulle over my head while I poo? I can’t ask them to do that. No. Hold it girl!

So obviously, very important things are on your mind. But at someone elses wedding… well all bets are off. You just have to show up and stay marginally sober enough to keep your dress on through the cake cutting. No pressure. Just show up and be awesome.

And this weekend, that’s exactly what we did. Jose and I hopped in the car and drove to Jersey for a weekend of someone elses wedded bliss.

Upon arriving to the hotel, Jose set out on an exploratory mission to find friends. And beer. He returned 30 minutes later reeking of liquor and ½ a bottle of Corona.

While choosing between a nice dress and a skank dress, I down my shot of Corona and decide that I will be totally freaking awesome at this party and make lots of friends. Skank dress stays in the closet. Much hair teasing and aquanet follow.

On our way to the wedding we meet other guests in the lobby- one of which offers a ride to the wedding and begins a quite hysterical conversation about her children, categories of snot, and the shame of owning a minivan. Friend #1- accomplished.

At the ceremony I cry like a sissy girl, because no one is watching me so I really don’t give a damn.

Cocktail hour, also known as the tipping point. Go hard? Ease in? Jose orders beer. A man slides next to me and insists I try an apple martini, stating that I should always trust a gay man. And then compliments my shoes/belt/purse matching skills. Oooh, friend #2- let me buy you a martini.

The boys notice that Jose is not wearing a tie, as was his trade off for not wearing Adidas sneakers with a suit. The boys are jealous, and strip off their ties in this small victory for all domesticated men.

We eat all the food at the cocktail hour. ALL OF IT. We talk about football and curse the Gods for our misfortune in fantasy league. We take shots and tell bad jokes… because we can dammit. It’s not our wedding.

Reception- we eat lots of steak and drink lots of drinks. We dance, systematically worse as the night goes on. Jose and Lou clear the dance floor for the one Latin song played. Kirlin takes off his shirt and does the worm, almost successfully. Cake is served, and I love cake. I eat mine and anyone else’s at my table who is not currently sitting in their seat. (Five, to be exact) I leave them the icing as a courtesy.

The rest of the night pretty much followed as you’d expect- everyone drinking and eating until we could no longer fit into our already ill-fitting clothing and announcing that every song played was our favorite song and baby we just gotta work it out on the dance floor. And did we think we were cute! And charming. And funny. Not at all drunk, just totally freaking amazing.

Successful wedding? Well I know I had fun. Just ask my liver.

But in the end, it wasn’t my happiest day. That title is reserved for the day I scarfed down half a pizza while wearing a big white dress, and giggled like a five year old girl in Disney world while I said my vows. That was my happiest day.

Other peoples weddings, those are the fun days. The remember when we did that? Now lets go make out in the corner and dance like it’s prom night days. Let’s get dressed up, stay out late, eat good food and drink too much. Let’s go see people we haven‘t seen in ages and meet new ones who are equally amazing. Let’s go! It’s going to be a great party.  

I love those days.