Wedding Manners

My buddy Chris got engaged yesterday. He was really hungover from St. Patty’s day with his girl and he said, “If I can stand a hangover and all the bullshit she’s thrown my way for the last four years… I should marry her.” He proposed without a ring, at the kitchen table, while the two of them were drinking coffee and popping aspirin.

If that ain’t a love story, I don’t know what is.

He asked Zach and Sam to be his groomsmen (I think Chris is going to ask his brother to be his best man). And then the groom put some conditions on my being able to attend the wedding. I’m pretty sure the terms came from his wet blanket of a fiancee, but whatever.

Chris: Jess, if you wanna come to my wedding you have to graduate from an etiquette class.

Me: …fuck you. I’ll mourn the end of your bachelorhood with a drink with the barkeep. NAKED. BUTT FUCKING NAKED.

Zach: Sorry, man. If Jess is naked at a bar, I gotta be there. No wedding for me neither.

Camaraderie at its finest.

Besides, I’ve been to charm school. My bloodline may go back to the Celts and Mongol horde, but I know how to be a darling when it matters.

Wedding Call

I hate getting phone calls from odd country codes. It’s always bad news from a far away place.

Lassie Lynn, do you love me?

This a trick question?

No.

I mean… I gueeeess~ Hahaha!

Do you love me enough to let me go?

Is everything all right?

I think I’m getting married.

Oh, wow… That’s great. Congratulations.

…So you’re okay with that?

…Sounds like you’re asking for my permission.

He told me his girlfriend of a year and a half was pressuring him for marriage. She said it wasn’t right for him to “play with her” if he had no intention of wifeing her. Seamus is about as steadfast and assertive as they come; they don’t make ’em like that anymore. I blame the feminazis for squashing the male-dominance gene out of our progeny; fortunately they haven’t gotten to everyone… But if there was a topic to crush Seamus into submission, it would probably be marriage. Something about sacraments, vows of unending love, honesty before God and your soul mate. Dude gets intense when he talks about spending the rest of his life with someone. I guess the Catholics do a few things right.

I feel he wanted me to say I didn’t want him to marry. I think he wanted me to tell him that I’d die without him; that he belonged to me and I to him. I mean, if we’re going by time as the gold standard, six years – even if it was on and off – is certainly a longer time to be with someone than a year and some change.

But I think we both know that boat sailed off towards the horizon a long time ago.

You have to do what’s right by you, Seamus O’Hare; no one else will do it.

You always did.

What the fuck. Stop.

I have to go to class now. Congratulations again. Send me an invitation. It’ll be the first wedding I attend.

You know, I love you. I’ll still love you even after… all of this happens.

What if I get a bowl cut?

I hung up. I didn’t need to hear his answer. I knew what it would be. I’m pretty much Han Solo.

Bitches and Proposals

I somehow ended up with a gaggle girls for lunch one day, and the topic turned to marriage proposals.

Bruh, some of these chicks want the world a ring on a silver platter. Seriously? Are you fucking me? Some of these hoes would be lucky to get married. Actually, no. Most of them had huge knockers, and that seems to be a good indicator of whether a chick will pass on her genes. Whatever man; it’s the way of the world, and I accept that.

Ideas ranged from beach sunsets with a 4 carat ring delivered by dolphins to having a flock of angels singing Highway to Hell bearing a Tiffany’s box… or at least that’s what I heard. It was probably more along the lines of a carriage ride through Central Park. My mind makes things more interesting when shit’s boring.

My buddy David proposed to his girl a while back. He was sitting on the sofa with his chick, watching Adult Swim, when he turned to her and said, “We should get married.”

“That’s REALLY how you’re gonna ask me? You don’t even have a ring…”

“Fine, I’ll ask you next week.”

Same shit happened, only this time she said yes. Smart girl. They had a courthouse wedding as per her request. He wanted to go skydiving into a volcano with everyone shooting machine guns downwards into the magma. No, my mind wasn’t off in Lala Land; fucker really said that’s how he wanted to marry her. If that’s not the wedding of the century, I don’t know what is.