Saying “I do” to an RSVP

Over the last few years, my attendance at weddings has been spottier than a pack of paint-balling dalmatians. Of the friends, family, acquaintances, coworkers and assorted interesting people I happen to meet in line at Starbucks, I’ve done a lousy job of nosing up to their nuptials. Out of all these invites, I’ve attended two measly weddings.

It’s not about being single so much as it’s about not having a wife around to drag me to these affairs. Hmm, I guess that does make it about being single. Never mind.

The last wedding invite I decided to forgo was from a cousin in New York. Hers was a second go round at the too fun age of twenty whatever. Which I kind of took as an insult not only to my intelligence but my memory banks. What? Did she think I’d forgotten about the small fortune I dropped only a few short years ago when she’d promised all that crud about death do us parting?

She’s alive and doing great, as is her ex. They’re still good friends. She living in Manhattan, and he relocated in Los Angeles. I’m guessing their divestiture of that big fat “I do” registry was executed wisely. She probably kept the Williams Sonoma even though she eats out eight nights a week and he’s probably waking up to the Pacific Ocean with a Bose Wave Music System.

The inky ‘regret’ on my RSVP card response wasn’t even dry when I shot it back to her. That side of the family and their response is another post for another time. Preferably when I have wine in the house. And some new Amy Winehouse stuff, come to think of it.

Sorry, it takes my mind several paragraphs to get to the point. Which is, that I will be in attendance at a wedding ceremony next weekend without a gun having been strategically placed to my temple as incentive.

An old girlfriend of mine is getting married. This will be my fifth former girlfriend wedding. If I had a top ten weddings list, all the former girlfriends would be on it because the truth is they have been some of the best times. Their weddings I mean.

Me and this gal have been friends for a very long time. We’ve seen each other through work and family, divorce and reconstruction. Our romantic interlude happened as a result of availability and curiosity, it’s human nature I guess. That part of our story wasn’t bad at all, but it also wasn’t us.

Like my cousin, this will be my friend’s second marriage. But it’s a hard earned and much deserved second time. She’s been single long enough to know the good thing she has is worth making official. And I’ve been single long enough to know that I’ll be spending her day in the right place.

Now if Vera Farmiga would return my phone calls, I’d have a good idea as to who I was bringing to this hoedown. Methinks her husband isn’t giving her the messages.

(I’ve got to acquaint myself with country music in a hurry, because these two lovebirds voted W for President just for the soundtrack. And I thought Kenny Chesney was a fried chicken recipe until five minutes ago.)

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