Wedding

On Saturday, I went to a wedding. A wedding where I was the best man.


Yes, that’s right. A middle aged single woman was the best man. I’m sure there’s an irony there somewhere, but I’m fucked if I can find it.

I spent the night before entertaining the groom, or rather being entertained by the groom, who had brought his Mac and iPhone. He good naturedly let the kids loose on both. The Boy got to work on the Mac and Lid installed applications to do with animals on his iPhone.

We spent the time watching animation, both being huge geeks of that genre, listening to The Smiths and eating cheese on toast.

We laughed at irrelevancies, had a farting competition, and had an arm wrestle over which of us love Will Self more.

We sacked off going to see Florence + The Machine at The Tabernacle just so we could be extra anoraky, before his freedom was lost forever and he has to start being trendy, having dinner parties and going to wine bars (or whatever women make their husbands do).

I watched Have I Got News For You whilst he adjusted his Mac, and all in all a pleasant evening was had by all. By the end of it, we had a midget each sprawled over us. We sat up talking utter shite for hours.

It was just – easy. Nice. Nice to have someone to talk to, without being in each other’s way, without having to bitch about each of us doing something different, not having to worry about what either of us were doing, or having to explain ourselves and I just thought “I could handle this, as a concept, I really could”.

Not with him, obviously, it’s more than a bit late for that now, but I reckon I could do it. It wouldn’t be infeasible.

The comfort zone was not exerted until the next day when, post speeches et al, he announced that he had arranged for me to do a 5 song set. I snorted with laughter. He announced that if I didn’t, it would really upset him. And then he gave me the look. The one he’s been giving me since we were 7 years old, the bastard. This of course meant I couldn’t back out. I hadn’t even been drinking. He even got the kids to gang up on me.

I did it. I did it without any of my bodily functions giving out, without forgetting any words, and only shivering slightly in horror.

Sound wise, it was terrible. In terms of confidence building it wasn’t great whilst I was up there, but afterwards I felt good. I’d done it.

Apparently, that little episode was my gift from the bride and groom. I’d have enjoyed a box of chocolates more, but it wouldn’t have given me as much. The cheeky swines.

Happy wedding Mr and Mrs. Thank you both. Though of course, if you break his heart dear I will give you your teeth in a bag to play with.