Last weekend, one of my closest friends married the love of her life.
Granted, I’ve only met the man once or twice before the Big Day, but I can honestly say this is the real deal. I’ve seen how his eyes brighten and sparkle whenever he looks at her. I’ve watched him as he subconsciously moves this way and that when takes care of her, as if he’d been doing this his entire life. When they carry conversations, they speak with one another as if they’d been married for over 30 years and are an older couple who’d mastered the art of holy matrimony years ago.
I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a little jealous of them. It’s not a negative jealousy or anything (no special little feelings for anyone!) I’m jealous of the fact that my friend was lucky enough to find her other half and able to spend the rest of her life with him. She’s one of those people who deserves this more than anything. I’m jealous of anyone who is lucky enough to spend their lives with their other halves, but that’s a story for another time.
Let’s focus on the wedding; now, I don’t normally cry at weddings, but this was one where tears made their presence known. The venue was a spectacular dance hall with high vaulted ceilings with pictures of plaster cherubs carrying jugs of overflowing wine. Long slabs of polished granite stretched throughout the entire room, and elegantly delicate chandeliers hung from almost every corner. On the other side of the hall was a smaller room with tightly woven carpet, two handsome fireplaces resting on each end. and an impressive wrap-around bar standing right smack dab in the middle.What made it even more impressive were the open taps.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t know anyone other than the Bride and her Groom, and my suspicions were correct. So, in my normal awkward fashion, I focused on one person standing slightly off from the rest of the crowd and tried to make friends. It worked for a little while… until it was time to sit down at our designated tables. I knew I was going to be quiet and stare at everyone, making them uncomfortable, so I went over to the bar and asked for a Whiskey Sour, one of the few alcoholic beverages I actually like and the bar knows how to make.
On a side note, NEVER drink on an empty stomach. At first, I thought, Okay, this isn’t so bad. The alcohol isn’t hitting me yet, so maybe I’ll have another one. I was halfway through my second Whiskey Sour when it hit me. The room started to pulse with purples and blues (two of the wedding colors – the others were gold, pearl-white, and green) along with the music. I didn’t want to scare anyone, so I carefully made my way to my table in my one and a half inch black heels and sat down as gracefully as I could. Once again, I didn’t know anyone at the table. But the good part was no one knew anyone else there either. In other words, a clean slate for all. An even better part was everyone else at the table was sipping on their wine glasses and beverages as well. It’s safe to say we were all experiencing some sort of inebriated levels of realities. As we each introduced ourselves and learned a little about the other’s lives, we laughed, joked and told stories that involved either the Bride, the Groom, or both. Our tensions and uneasiness melted away and we all acted like we hadn’t seen one another since college.
It wasn’t long until the wedding party came back into the hall after their pictures were taken. By that time, I was working on my third? Whiskey Sour, a glass of Savignon Blanc, and downed my flute of Champagne after toasts were made in honor of the newly married couple. Safe to say I was feeling rather good.
After we had our dinner and salads, (which were all so great by the way) everyone started to file onto the dance floor and have an unofficial contest of who could rock out the hardest. There was this one guy who was obviously the winner, as he was popping, locking, and grooving his way all around everyone else.
When we weren’t grooving or doing the Charleston (one of my best dance moves, fyi) I was sitting down with my table and trading names. One of the table-goers was my new friend, Milly*. she was wearing this great A-line blood-red dress with a heart shaped bodice she bought for (and you’ll never get this – Amazon of all places!) $15. I was excited for her awesome find, where she then proceeded to whip out her phone and show me how she found it.
Then, later into the night, and after a fourth glass of Whiskey Sour, one of the wedding party members, Stacey*, grabbed me by the arm and said “Leah! You have to try this!”
So of course I got excited and replied something along the lines of “Sure! What am I trying?”
One of the wedding venue servers was handing out tiny chocolate cups of Baileys to other party goers. It looked like a hollowed out Reese’s Peanut butter cups. We all toasted to the happy couple’s long marriage, then took the shot. I ate my cup to chase the alcohol.
We all danced and danced until the last song was played. I remember grabbing my shoes, sweater that I took off because I was getting overheated, an empty decanter that was used as a decoration for the table, and heading out to the designated shuttle to bring me back to the hotel. I got to have that entire shuttle to myself.
The next morning was murder. My nose was clogged up to the back of my throat, my eyes were almost sealed shut from gross crustiness, and a headache was pounding out its own special little tune. It took me at least 20 minutes to get up and make my way to the bathroom. Thankfully, I did not lose my integrity. (Code word for puking my brains out to the end of time)
A few people met down in the hotel lobby for breakfast and trying to recount everything that happened the night before. Words were mumbled, eyes were either narrowed to barely open slits or heavily lidded, and yet, we were all satisfied and our hearts filled with content. 10/10, would do that again.
My liver, on the other hand, would give it a rating of 2/10, do not drink that much for at least another 2-5 years, depending on the alcohol.
*Names were changed to protect those who may not want to be known all over the internet by someone they just met.
L.J. LaBree 