In which I cut the sleeves off an old bride’s maid’s dress – eggplant, floorlength, strappy, six-paneled, and synthetic – and wear it to a party.

Elisabeth and Nathan were married at a quarter to four on Sunday, but we didn’t go to the wedding. I was napping, and Brett was probably sitting on the couch watching TV.

As I was getting dressed to go to the reception though, Brett, who’d said he didn’t want to go, changed his mind and hopped in the shower. When he was clean and dressed, and I had done my hair and make up, we hopped in his truck and left for town. I had a moment of thinking, “This isn’t a good idea, us going together. He’ll want to leave early. Damn.” But on we went.

We were half an hour late, but the reception was just getting into full swing. The dance floor was filled with a gaggle of screaming, dancing, flailing children, some in their wedding finery and the rest dressed as superheroes. One toddler climbed the dais and was heading hand-out straight for the cake but a dad, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, swooped her up before the cake could have a handful of frosting removed from it. “Now that’s good parenting,” I said to the person standing next to me.

I wandered around seeing the wonderful out-of-town people, and gave lots of hugs and kisses to old friends. Eventually I found the bar and got a glass of cabernet, then I sat with Kevin & Aimee for the toasts. Bijan came to sit with us.

Bijan gave the funniest toast I’ve ever heard about eating mystery-meat-on-a-stick in Chinatown and spending the night in the couple’s guest room emitting horrible flatulence. I think Aimee thought it was crass, which it certainly was, but I laughed my ass off. It was a nice counterpoint to the sweet, lovey-dovey toasts that had gone before. I like a lovey-dovey toast as much as anyone, but a wedding celebration should encompass both the estoteric and the profane, just as a marriage does.

I don’t know about yours, but my marriage certainly seems to involve a great deal of farting.

I was found by my beloved Eliana and hung out with her for awhile, missing the cake cutting and the throwing of the bouquet. I kept drinking cabernet. Eventually Eliana and I parted and I wandered around accosting people, having no idea how drunk I’d gotten. Every time I went to get my glass refilled, I asked Eli if anyone had told him in the last twenty minutes that he was adorable. I told Tammy that her kids were gorgeous and that she was a saint. I noticed myself repeating things for emphasis – a horrible habit I have, but one I can’t seem to break – and I started kissing people on the lips.

Eventually my path crossed Brett’s again and of course he wanted to leave. I went to see if I could crash with Hattie & Joe, and they said I could, so I went back and told Brett that. Inexplicably, it pissed him off so I left with him. At eleven. All those cool people in town and a big dress-up party to see them at, but he wanted to go home at eleven!

I hate him.

On the other hand, when we were driving home I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, and realized I was totally shitfaced and probably would have gotten (even more) obnoxious if I’d stayed there. So it worked out for the best, even though I was hurt and pissed we had to leave when I was having so much fun. And I’d just discovered the hors d’ouvres, and hadn’t had as much time to munch on them as I’d wanted. Goat cheese and pesto – yum!
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