As I believe I alluded to in my first post, there have been a number of experiences I have had with the opposite sex that have (shockingly) never involved the Internet.
I was a guest at a good friend’s wedding a few years back. There were well over 200 people there, the music was great and the alcohol was flowing in all directions. And when I say that, I mean that there were at least 3 bars set up around the reception area where it seemed that at least one dozen guys and gals (but mostly guys) were standing and festively barreling into each other.
A slave to tradition, it came time for the bride to toss the bouquet. I tried to avoid the situation completely, and ran in the opposite direction of the female gang eagerly holding their arms up to try and catch some airborne floral. Not only did I not make it away from the group with any sort of grace, but the bouquet hit me right in the face and then fell to the floor. Horrified but not wanting to ruin the moment, I picked up the flowers and awaited the next step to this wondrous routine.
Next up was the equally-unnerving garter toss. To make it clear, I’m well aware that when you get a group of males together to perform any sort of task, especially when there is alcohol involved, it gets competitive. However, I have never witnessed anything more ruthless than the struggle that ensued among those who wanted to catch this little piece of ruffly elastic. It was definitely the effects of gallons of whisky and testosterone that caused a group of close to 100 men to literally run and jump on top of one another, breaking several glasses, causing children to cry and everyone to wonder who would need the E.R. It certainly had nothing to do with me sitting on a chair close by, waiting to do my part and
get groped have the garter delicately placed on my appendage.
After the clawing and tackling was over, there was not much left but tons of broken glass and…him. The dude who caught the garter was not only disheveled, but didn’t look like he could walk too well and had a bloody nose. No, I’m not kidding.
In the wedding photo archives, there are definitely a few photos of my smiling, yet completely horror-struck face as I awaited my fate – bride and groom standing next to me for support.
Somehow he managed to crouch down at my leg and do the business. With zero eye contact (poor guy probably couldn’t focus on much), blood slowly trickling from his nostril, he spoke these enchanted words to me:
The garter was on, there were definitely enough photos taken of these precious moments and it was time for this boy to get some gauze. I was done.
Weddings are magical.