Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Friend of the bride.

Those schoolgirl promises we made to one another - you know the ones, the sitting cross-legged on Mrs Newstead's prickly carpet playing Pat-A-Cake and swearing on our unborn baby brother and sister that we'd never ever even so much as flick our ponytails in the direction of a boy because boys, ughhh! - well, I'm holding up my side of the deal, for the most part. Everyone else seems to have forgotten.

One of my oldest and closest friends just recently got engaged to her fella of 2+ years; she's a wee bit younger than me and they're both planning a long engagement so they can save up, get a house and have a big wedding etc. which is crazy-sensible for a pair of just-turned twenty year-olds.
I'm a bit miffed with the whole situation; NO, not because of what you're thinking, y'know about me being a jealous single spinster only aged twenty, NO. I am miffed simply because it's going to be several years before I get to dance and get embarrassingly and inexcusably drunk in a godawful strapless dress at my old friend's wedding. I'll have to make a note so I remember to get twenty-odd tequila shots in at the open bar, then make an awkward speech in the middle of the couple's first dance. Yes, I will be THAT wedding guest. It's my sacred duty as an old friend. It's also very important that I attend the wedding without a date, meaning I can flirt with all the groomsmen (who happen to be the boys who bullied me in high school) and my mother can not only be my drinking buddy but also give me a piggyback home after I pass out covered in wedding cake and rose wine, mumbling incoherently about that charming boy who once took a shine to me on school photo day when my hair was all glossy and pinned perfectly, and how I thought I would marry him someday...

The engagement party was a couple of months ago now. I went home especially, armed with a pretty dress, multiple sticks of lipstick and freshly-dyed lilac hair. I donned my heels (this being the third time I'd worn them since the painful gunpoint purchase back in 2011), and tried my best to forget that not only would I be wildly unpopular at this party, as the guest list consisted mainly of the high school Perfect Popular Princess girls, but also would be subjected to the delightful questioning of the adult party population; "so, how's uni? Where are you studying again? A degree in what, exactly? And any future plans? Do you have a boyfriend, then?" Joy of joys.
All this being said... I had a fantastic time. I really did! A local band played (some familiar faces from high school, again), their song selection was spot on AND they covered Mumford perfectly, what more can you ask of a band? My family all danced to 'Mr Brightside' and 'Little Bird', my parents pretending to know the words and my little sister pretending to be drunk. There were a couple of tearful speeches from family and the honourees; the cake was extraordinary; everyone was wasted by 11pm. I, for one, was at that familiar level of wasted where I was happily spilling my drinks down myself as I gesticulated wildly in accompaniment with my loose-lipped chatter - I also thought nobody could see the Jack Daniels and rose mixing and mingling on my fresh cream dress. I also thought nobody would notice my subtle student skills 'minesweeping' unattended drinks from the tables. Alas.
I was home by 11:30pm, tucked up in my childhood bed, spinning through space and overcome with love and unapologetic optimism. I can't remember the last time a party left me feeling this way*. It was a perfect night, really.

*More often than not, I favour a bust-up and a dramatic exit from a party/pub crawl at 1am, after which I sob on my housemate's shoulder and swear 'never again'. Maybe the key is going to bed at 11:30pm...

In all seriousness... I am delighted for my girl, Daisy. She's found something special. She's found happiness that some of us cannot begin to imagine, love that will last a lifetime and stability that we can only dream of - all at twenty. If the only way is up, she's heading for the moon.

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