I wanted to tell y'all about the wedding and how much Megan's parents made me drink (I totally did the "Forever" wedding dance, complete with sunglasses, in the restaurant at the rehearsal dinner after that second margarita), but something kind of interesting happened.
And Barbara, my work mom, could tell the minute I walked in the office the following Monday.
"Soooo," she started. "How was the wedding?"
"Weeell," I smiled. "It was beautiful and everything went off without a hitch..."
"Did you meet someone!" she demanded.
I blushed. "Yes. And he is such a gentleman, Barbara. And a good dancer, and..."
"Is he a good kisser? That is the important question."
And right there, in the middle of my office, I blushed again and whispered, "Yes!" She did not seem afraid of anyone else hearing about my weekend escapades...er...let's make that singular because we all know they are rare. Okay they're non-existent.
Oh, I should mention here that the title of this post is not indicative of my future with said good kisser. Let's not get ahead of ourselves...although I have been considering freezing my eggs lately, but that would be in a few years, I just need to start saving up. (Whether I will ever follow through with this is questionable because A) I love shoes too much and a giant Forever 21 just opened up near me and I've been there three times in the past week; and B) Margaret is moving to NYC so I have to find my own place and apartments in NW DC are friggin' expensive!!!)
Side note to expound on Point A): Forever 21 now has a line for *ahem* real women, like me, cut "conservatively," which means I can actually fit into skirts and I don't have to buy large tops but rather small and medium, yay! Thanks, Forever 21, for not constantly reminding me that I'll never be forever 21 because of my ever-expanding parts that like to expand the second I eat a donut. Note to side note: Little known fact -- cupcakes have zero calories so you can eat as many as you want and never expand a millimeter. It's true!
Back to the wedding. I hadn't seen Megan in months since she left DC to pursue a new job in the swamps of the South where a swamp creature moans outside her window every night before she goes to bed, so the excitement of seeing her and her getting married and eating a lot of free food and cake was too much to bear, so I started crying almost immediately after seeing her. When we had to stand in perfect formation for what seemed like hours, directed by the slightly crazy, slightly senile wedding coordinator, I lost the urge to cry and developed the urge to drink margaritas. Fortunately we were going to a BBQ joint afterwards, where Megan and I promptly ordered the Margaria, or was it the Sangarita? Anyway, it was a margarita + sangria in a giant glass with a straw.
Halfway through that thing I started talking -- loudly -- to everyone at the table. The other bridesmaids later told me they thought I was shy and quiet during the rehearsal. And then I went completely overboard and images of me being shy and quiet were a faint memory.
During dinner someone set up a karaoke machine. I kept eyeing it, and Megan's mom encouraged me to get another sangarita and then sing something. And now she knows not to ever ask me to sing in public when pink drinks are involved.
I walked over to the karaoke area, but a table of about 25 middle-aged women had control of the book, and they already had put in a bunch of orders. Before anyone could begin singing I yelled, "TIME OUT!" Then I stood at the end of the table and explained to the ladies that Megan and Ben were getting married and we needed to get our "Best Friends Wedding" on up in this plizzace. So on the count of three, with hands waving in the air like we had lobster claws on, we all sang (in harmony! or maybe I just made it sound terrible!), "Goin' to the chapel and we're...gonna get maaaaaaaaaried!" And you know the rest.
Then I danced around the tables with my sunglasses on.
Next stop was a local bar, and I figured I'd embarrassed myself, and the entire wedding party, enough for one night, so I opted for water from an anorexic waitress with cutoffs and a belly ring. While all the guys gawked at her, my eyes wandered to the door, and in walked the cute boy who never called.
Our eyes met. I started laughing hysterically. He looked mortified.
He rushed to my side and began apologizing. "It's okay!" I assured him. "I totally forgot about you even asking for my number. No big deal."
But he insisted on making it up to me. Dinner back in DC? No, thanks. Co Co. Sala back in DC? Oh I might actually consider that. Give me your number? Hmm.
Suddenly a line from "He's Just Not That Into You" (the book, not the movie) popped into my head -- if a guy really likes you he will find a way to get in touch with you. So I declined.
(But I did give him one of my new blog business cards. Why? WHY?!)
He called later that night.
Of course I ignored him, it's not ladylike to answer a call that late.
The next day we primped and ate delicious Mexican food and sipped champagne. The wedding was perfect and I think even the wedding coordinator was happy with how everything turned out. Back in the dressing room I helped Megan's parents clean up and get Megan's things together.
"What are we going to do with all this champagne?" her dad asked, motioning toward all the half full glasses littering the room. "We're not leaving them here, it's not right."
Her mom gave me a mischievous look. "Mary El, you can take care of it, right?"
Seriously?! So I did my bridesmaid duty and downed all the champagne.
At the reception I settled into my seat at the bridesmaids table. Apparently I was the only single person in the entire room, but I was too tipsy to care.
"There's a seat at my table, I'd love it if you'd join me," a voice behind me said. I looked up and it was Cute Boy. I was taken aback -- hadn't I rejected and ignored him? But his efforts paid off, and I went to his table with him. Of course I was wildly nervous at that point and could barely get out a coherent sentence. When the food came I was thrilled to tone down my buzz. Except the waiters brought out more bottles of champagne and I started drinking it again. In hindsight I'm glad I did because what followed would have been too much to do without a little liquid encouragement...he wanted to dance.
Normally I love love LOVE dancing at weddings, but with a cute boy who I'm suddenly developing feelings for? HORROR!
But Cute Boy had some moves, and it was the kind of dancing that makes a girl feel like she looks good on the dance floor, even though she's stepping on his toes. That coupled with my swirly bridesmaid dress made me feel quite romantic.
Which is why I let him kiss me.
And that's all I'm going to say on that subject.
"I'd like to continue this when we get back to DC," he said to me when it was time for me to say good-bye.
And that's how this single girl became suddenly not so single...