So, the wedding went off without a hitch on Friday– well, the couple got hitched– and a fun time was had by all.
The ceremony itself was relatively brief (aka perfect length) and it was nice to see both bride and groom tear up a bit during.
And I liked the “knot tying” thing. The officiant of the ceremony used 5 symbolic strips of cloth to bind their intertwined hands during vows. I’d never seen that done, so that was cool.
Much better than a unity candle.
Although one of the groomsmen* and I were joking about doing a reading from “50 Shades of Grey” while pouring hot unity candle wax on the couple….
*More on this groomsman in a minute.
The reception was at the VFW hall and had BBQ catered in (I was ravenous at this point) and it tasted so good. Also a good big band was playing all sorts of standard (and less standard) songs throughout dinner.
There was of course a slide show of them as kids, and then a DJ and dancing.
I did try my best to fit in, but being generationally removed from most of the wedding party made it difficult. I didn’t have a “plus one” to hand with so I was mostly by myself.
Plus, since most of the bridesmaids thought of me as some skeezy old man, it made dancing difficult.
If it hadn’t been for Andy….
Ah Andy. One of the groom’s only “straight” groomsmen, I frrquently found myself in orbit around him.
Handsome, bearded, ridiculously nice, wickedly smart, and quick-witted, he had me enthralled from minute one when we met at the rehearsal.
I mean, anyone who casually drops the word “allele” in order to make a pop cultural joke…
And damn it, if he isn’t gay, then he missed it by a fraction of an inch!
He’s one of those straight guys that should be gay. And then I would marry him.
But alas, his girlfriend was at the wedding– and evidently none too pleased that he was spending too much time with the wedding party and not enough with her.
My only issue the entire night was — and this is embarrassing but needs explanation– was B.O.
Okay, so as the evening wore on, I kept getting an occasional whiff of B.O. For awhile I kept wondering who it was, and then suddenly it dawned on me. It was ME!
Well, technically it was my shirt.
Allow me to explain.
I don’t get pit stank. Not really. For some reason I have been blessed that even though I sweat like a pig, I never get stinky.
Like, I think I can count the number of times on two dicks when I’ve ever been able to smell my pits. And that’s like tucking your nose in and taking a big huff.
Even marching all day in the dead of summer with no shower that morning– no pit stank. Ass stank, yes– pit stank, no.
So, imagine my surprise when I do a casual “sniff test” and discover that the B.O. is emanating from me! I’m absolutely stunned.
Anyway, I got home an stripped off the tux– still perplexed by the whole stank thing. Hell, I showered and did my usual deodorant/antiperspirant. And it was cool and I wasn’t that sweaty.
And so I sniffed my bare pits… And didn’t really smell anything. Just the bare remnants of stank.
So I sniffed the shirt. Yup- stanky.
I went to bed, and the next morning it was still bothering me. So I checked my pits again.
Absolutely no odor. An that’s after no shower AND sleeping all night.
It was the damn rental shirt! It had to be.
Oh well. The wedding was over and the rest of the wedding party seemed to have an excellent time, so hopefully there was no party foul.
Heh heh… Foul.
And hopefully Andy wasn’t too grossed out as I stood and sat next to him for most of the evening.