decidedly not next

rose

Another weekend, another wedding. I’m becoming a sucker for these things. The sense of progression, the reunion of old friends, e’er flowing black label on the rocks at 4pm.

I got upgraded to ‘groomsman’ status to replace an emergency dropout. I believe I filled the role quite well: guiding the out-of-town groomsmen through NY and NJ; looking unjustly handsome in a rented tux from Chinatown; partaking in all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities there unto accorded.

During the reception, I might have become “that guy”. Y’know, That Guy that drinks his scotch and becomes excessively collegial to everyone. That Guy that tells people exactly what good people they are. Shoulder grabs. Earnest appraisals. Most sincerest bear hugs. Vows that I would help them “any time, anything, just call me, don’t worry about it.” Bah, I was feeling good.

In any case, it was good to see all the old childhood friends again, even if everyone did bring their hot sorority girlfriends. Thanks.

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