Weddings Are A Trap
I went to my friend’s sister’s wedding this past weekend (who just so happens to be my friend, too. Lurve you Amanda!) And I came to this conclusion: Weddings are a trap. They’re held in a beautiful place, the bar is open, you get to wear beautiful dresses, and there’s all night dancing, and once the cool friends start doing it, EVERYONE’S going to want to start. I’m on to your tricks, weddings.
Oh not a huge deal, but the wedding will be held at a hotel overlooking the water that is crystal blue and in a town populated with signs like “Sue’s Sugar Shack! Sells saltwater taffy and postcards!” Even the room that you’re staying in is homey and has a better bed than the one you have at home. Very crafty, weddings.
The food, OH THE FOOD! There were literally racks on racks on racks of lobster rolls. And the cake was whoopie pies. You read that correctly. Instead of Wills and Kate “fruitcake”, the cake at this wedding was whoopie pies. Try to top that, every wedding ever.
From what I remember, I was a dancing fiend. The pictures that everyone took back me up, and everyone knows that if you want to get me to do ANYTHING, put on music and just let me go. Spontaneous dance parties are, in all likelihood, the only reason that my apartment doesn’t look like the result of the simultaneous explosion of a J Crew and a neighboring coffee shop. That’s how weddings get you. You’re thinking (while washing down one of three lobster rolls with your fourth pinot grigio in your pretty dress surrounded by your closest friends) “This isn’t that great”, and then “Baby Got Back” comes on and suddenly, you’re breaking it down like it’s whatever year “Baby Got Back” came out. Foiled again by weddings.
The Open “Bah”
Since this was a wedding filled with Bostonians, I got the absolute treat of being able to hear their accents all weekend. This is not sarcasm, even a little bit. Ask anyone who has ever met me: Boston accents are EQUAL to British accents in my book. Equal. I love them. I also love open bars, because I am in my 20s and I am broke and I like wine. Providing this constant flow of alcohol to wedding-goers is the greatest possible way to begin married life. This means that weddings are the fanciest venue in which you and all of your closest friends and family can get “beaucoup Cancun” (wasted). And when that’s all over, hopefully you have the joy (as I did) of having Grand Marnier poured for you out of a plastic bag by the Father of the Bride.
I can be a leaky faucet of tears. Surprise arrivals of loved ones from Afghanistan can literally set me off for hours. And those are complete strangers! When it’s someone I know about to embark on a new life with their new partner? WATERPROOF MASCARA IS A DAMNED LIE. WATERPROOF MY ASS. IT’S A SHAM. The people involved in this wedding were people I love very much, and I thought to myself that this is definitely something I want. I want to have all of my loved ones around me and I want to welcome someone amazing into my family just like Joe and Amanda and OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING?! YOU TWO WEDDING CULT MEMBERS HAVE COMPLETELY SUCKED ME IN! In all seriousness, if weddings were the Hare Krishna, I would be in orange robes accosting people with tambourine music outside of a grocery store right this very second. This is all your fault, Amanda and Joe. Completely and totally. And mazel tov to your both, you crazy kids.