I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over This....
I've always been fond of weddings. Cake, champagne, friends, family, dancing, music, food, and such. I've never cried at a wedding...until yesterday.
Deb and Scott knew each other in high school. I knew them both as good friends, but they were only casual aquaintences to each other. You can imagine how me and my cohortes felt when we discovered 1) they were dating, and then 2) they were getting married. And 3) they had only been dating for several months. I was so fricking excited for them I couldn't keep it in around them. "I can't believe you're getting married" and "Who the fuck would've thought?" came out of my mouth like breathing. Deb told me to shut up and Scott nearly socked me, which I didn't want him to do since he'd been shooting at bad guys in Iraq for a couple years. But I kept on anyway. For you normal people, it'd be like finding out Santa Claus was real, and also that he's a child molester hooked on Prozac.
I couldn't sleep. I tossed all night trying to get the images out of my head, along with words like change, new, end, beginning. Deborah Lee Winters, a girl who I'd seen cut her wrists, scrawl angry poetry, call love a "conspiracy", survive rape and abuse, deal with drugs and severe alcoholic depression, dabble in witchcraft, and had a screaming match with in our high school parking lot the night of my Junior prom, was getting married. And she was marrying Scott, I guy I introduced Johnny the Homicidal Maniac to, helped nail boards together with, tell bad jokes with, kill a rat in the shop with, and helped put the couch out with Tim when it caught fire.
It made me think of people as boats and pingpong balls, bouncing into and off each other. Random chance. Or was it simply the fact that accidents don't happen? If someone had told me these two would end up hitched, I'd of laughed my ass off and accused them of smoking laced pot.
Mom and Dad came with me. The church was small, with pretty stained windows and hard pews. It smelled like pinsol and perfume. I wore my new pinstripe and toted my camera. Deb's mom sneaked up on me, pinned a flower to my jacket and labelled me Guestbook Man. My job was to stand near the Guestbook and say "Hey...sign the Guestbook." I stealed away when I got bored and swiped Scott, who was very dashing and very very nervous.
"How ya feelin', big guy?"
"I can't stop sweating and I'm hungry." He pointed out the bridesmaid hall. His forbidden area. Not forbidden to the Guestbook Guy. I slid inside and was greated by Val and the other five maids in gold gowns. And in the center?
Deb. Gown and all.
I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to say. There she was with a smile bigger than Texas on her face and her hair done up like leaves and lace. Her gown shimmered. Seeing me, all she had to do was stretch out her arms. They closed around me like silk. "I'm so glad you're here." Her words were bold and soft. My cheek was next to hers and I suddenly felt like the sherry in the bottom of the glasses after all the guests have left. There was so much I wanted to say. Ten thousand sentences holding regret, stupid jokes, irony, wit, and carless joy. All i managed was:
"You look beautiful, kid." Her eyes filled with dew. "Thank you. Now shooo so I can hike my dress up for ventilation." I laughed the best I could, kiss Val on the cheek and stepped off. Everything was different now.
Exiting the room I ran into Jeff and his fiance. The boy had a beard and she was a cute blonde with a small nose. He gave me a bear hug so big I heard my ribs move. Five years and he grows a beard? What is he, a woodsman? Then came Lauren Hickman, a girl Spence and I had to kick out of a one act we were directing due to her drug problems. Her hair was shorter than mine and I barely recognized her. She was a vision on fire. Our Lady of Cynic Grace. Her beau, as she put was in town, but couldn't make it to the ceremony. Talking to Lauren led me straight into the eyes of Chris and her boyfriend Kirby. Chris' hair, on the other hand, was longer than I'd ever seen it on her head and she was thinner than a surfboard. Beautiful as always. Tim, the best man, was his joker self...with a chic! Never would I imagine this yuckster landing a dame, but he did and a cute one at that. Faces that's been absebt from me for five years all came smiling back at me in one fell swoop. Things had changed.
I pretended not to see Molly at first. Nothing in life makes me nervous...but this did. There she was, makeup and a little black dress right next to Jeff. I knew she was staring me down. Gathering every bit of courage, I forced my eyes to the right. She was older, wiser, walked taller. Deb and Scott getting married is hard for me to realize, but I'm still getting used to the fact that my high school sweetheart, who's two years younger than me, has a three year old child. She kept her virginity from me for six months, then suggest we go on a "break" so she could have space, changed her mind about getting back together with me, refused to be my date for the Valentine's dance, and then took off to Omaha and fucked the first guy she met only to get knocked up and have a kid. I hated her for the longest time. In some ways, I still do. In some ways...
I hugged her. She hugged me back...with one arm. I could barely breathe.
Lauren was my date and we sat together during the ceremony. She cried her eyes out the whole time. I didn't only because I was getting the whole thing on tape. Mom and Dad sat up front with Deb's parents. Molly sat on the other side of the church. I can't describe how I felt when the church stood and Deb's father escorted her in, her hands folded around a rose bouqet. It just didn't seem real. It was like living a dream, but it was all true, right before our eyes.
They said I do. They made vows. The exchanges rings. They kissed. We applauded.
I danced with Val at the reception, made a toast which scared the shit out of the wedding party, was set up with Deb's musical friend Meagan who has the same sense of humor as I do, ate a ton of cake, and stayed hours longer than my parents did. Molly sat next to me during dinner. Everytime I made a comment about high school or my realtionships with women, she'd make small side comments that I wouldn't totally hear. I ask what she said.
"Forget it," she'd say. "Doesn't matter." She wasn't insulting me or making judgements. She was simply bringing up "us". I knew that much. She wanted to talk about it, but didn't want to. She excused herself from the table. I followed her shanghied her on the dance floor. We swayed fast and slow, gripping each other. I asked if it would be weird if we did something together while she was in town. "How about breakfast?" she said. "Sounds great." I smiled. So did she.
I went home. Jeff was supposed to call me and let me in on what everyone was doing that night. He called and said no one was going anywhere. Needless to say, I was disappointed. Haven't seen these people in five years. You'd think they'd all want to get together again. I went to bed.
Again, I couldn't sleep. I was eating a meal with Molly, just the two of us, in seven hours. I laid awake for three hours straight. What would I say? What would she? For the last five years she'd been a myth. A campfire ghost story I tell my new girlfriends about. But she wasn't a story anymore. She was who I'd danced with that night.
She didn't call. She didn't show. I called her. She didn't answer.
I don't know why everything came crashing down. It just did. I made Deb and Scott's wedding film on my laptop and all I could do was cry. It wasn't about Molly. Not directly. It was the fact that Deb had gotten married before me. It was the fact that Tim had a girlfriend. I didn't. Jeff had a fiance. I didn't. Chris had a significant other. I didn't. I counted ten times during the reception when someone asked me who I had brought to the wedding and I had to answer "Myself." I told them about Amy, the fallout. Val refused to stop dancing with me until I felt better. I took comfort in her arms, then lied so her feet wouldn't get sore. I guess the fact that my EX girlfriend who I hadn't seen in years felt too chicken to sit and have a meal with me just made it so much more resonating. I'm sure she'll blame it on the fact that Steve's mom needed her and they cried their eyes out remembering him. He's dead. Think about that, ladies. We didn't ask the stubborn fuck to off himself. Selfish prick. I hope he's in Hell. I hate him for what he did to us all. Especially me.
Everyone is on their way. I'm right back where I started. Nowhere, with no one. And all I can do is watch people I don't know get married in pictures at my job. All in all, the weekend was not a loss. It was a gain. I'm glad everyone is healthy and happy.
I just wish I was, too. I want to die.
Deb and Scott knew each other in high school. I knew them both as good friends, but they were only casual aquaintences to each other. You can imagine how me and my cohortes felt when we discovered 1) they were dating, and then 2) they were getting married. And 3) they had only been dating for several months. I was so fricking excited for them I couldn't keep it in around them. "I can't believe you're getting married" and "Who the fuck would've thought?" came out of my mouth like breathing. Deb told me to shut up and Scott nearly socked me, which I didn't want him to do since he'd been shooting at bad guys in Iraq for a couple years. But I kept on anyway. For you normal people, it'd be like finding out Santa Claus was real, and also that he's a child molester hooked on Prozac.
I couldn't sleep. I tossed all night trying to get the images out of my head, along with words like change, new, end, beginning. Deborah Lee Winters, a girl who I'd seen cut her wrists, scrawl angry poetry, call love a "conspiracy", survive rape and abuse, deal with drugs and severe alcoholic depression, dabble in witchcraft, and had a screaming match with in our high school parking lot the night of my Junior prom, was getting married. And she was marrying Scott, I guy I introduced Johnny the Homicidal Maniac to, helped nail boards together with, tell bad jokes with, kill a rat in the shop with, and helped put the couch out with Tim when it caught fire.
It made me think of people as boats and pingpong balls, bouncing into and off each other. Random chance. Or was it simply the fact that accidents don't happen? If someone had told me these two would end up hitched, I'd of laughed my ass off and accused them of smoking laced pot.
Mom and Dad came with me. The church was small, with pretty stained windows and hard pews. It smelled like pinsol and perfume. I wore my new pinstripe and toted my camera. Deb's mom sneaked up on me, pinned a flower to my jacket and labelled me Guestbook Man. My job was to stand near the Guestbook and say "Hey...sign the Guestbook." I stealed away when I got bored and swiped Scott, who was very dashing and very very nervous.
"How ya feelin', big guy?"
"I can't stop sweating and I'm hungry." He pointed out the bridesmaid hall. His forbidden area. Not forbidden to the Guestbook Guy. I slid inside and was greated by Val and the other five maids in gold gowns. And in the center?
Deb. Gown and all.
I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to say. There she was with a smile bigger than Texas on her face and her hair done up like leaves and lace. Her gown shimmered. Seeing me, all she had to do was stretch out her arms. They closed around me like silk. "I'm so glad you're here." Her words were bold and soft. My cheek was next to hers and I suddenly felt like the sherry in the bottom of the glasses after all the guests have left. There was so much I wanted to say. Ten thousand sentences holding regret, stupid jokes, irony, wit, and carless joy. All i managed was:
"You look beautiful, kid." Her eyes filled with dew. "Thank you. Now shooo so I can hike my dress up for ventilation." I laughed the best I could, kiss Val on the cheek and stepped off. Everything was different now.
Exiting the room I ran into Jeff and his fiance. The boy had a beard and she was a cute blonde with a small nose. He gave me a bear hug so big I heard my ribs move. Five years and he grows a beard? What is he, a woodsman? Then came Lauren Hickman, a girl Spence and I had to kick out of a one act we were directing due to her drug problems. Her hair was shorter than mine and I barely recognized her. She was a vision on fire. Our Lady of Cynic Grace. Her beau, as she put was in town, but couldn't make it to the ceremony. Talking to Lauren led me straight into the eyes of Chris and her boyfriend Kirby. Chris' hair, on the other hand, was longer than I'd ever seen it on her head and she was thinner than a surfboard. Beautiful as always. Tim, the best man, was his joker self...with a chic! Never would I imagine this yuckster landing a dame, but he did and a cute one at that. Faces that's been absebt from me for five years all came smiling back at me in one fell swoop. Things had changed.
I pretended not to see Molly at first. Nothing in life makes me nervous...but this did. There she was, makeup and a little black dress right next to Jeff. I knew she was staring me down. Gathering every bit of courage, I forced my eyes to the right. She was older, wiser, walked taller. Deb and Scott getting married is hard for me to realize, but I'm still getting used to the fact that my high school sweetheart, who's two years younger than me, has a three year old child. She kept her virginity from me for six months, then suggest we go on a "break" so she could have space, changed her mind about getting back together with me, refused to be my date for the Valentine's dance, and then took off to Omaha and fucked the first guy she met only to get knocked up and have a kid. I hated her for the longest time. In some ways, I still do. In some ways...
I hugged her. She hugged me back...with one arm. I could barely breathe.
Lauren was my date and we sat together during the ceremony. She cried her eyes out the whole time. I didn't only because I was getting the whole thing on tape. Mom and Dad sat up front with Deb's parents. Molly sat on the other side of the church. I can't describe how I felt when the church stood and Deb's father escorted her in, her hands folded around a rose bouqet. It just didn't seem real. It was like living a dream, but it was all true, right before our eyes.
They said I do. They made vows. The exchanges rings. They kissed. We applauded.
I danced with Val at the reception, made a toast which scared the shit out of the wedding party, was set up with Deb's musical friend Meagan who has the same sense of humor as I do, ate a ton of cake, and stayed hours longer than my parents did. Molly sat next to me during dinner. Everytime I made a comment about high school or my realtionships with women, she'd make small side comments that I wouldn't totally hear. I ask what she said.
"Forget it," she'd say. "Doesn't matter." She wasn't insulting me or making judgements. She was simply bringing up "us". I knew that much. She wanted to talk about it, but didn't want to. She excused herself from the table. I followed her shanghied her on the dance floor. We swayed fast and slow, gripping each other. I asked if it would be weird if we did something together while she was in town. "How about breakfast?" she said. "Sounds great." I smiled. So did she.
I went home. Jeff was supposed to call me and let me in on what everyone was doing that night. He called and said no one was going anywhere. Needless to say, I was disappointed. Haven't seen these people in five years. You'd think they'd all want to get together again. I went to bed.
Again, I couldn't sleep. I was eating a meal with Molly, just the two of us, in seven hours. I laid awake for three hours straight. What would I say? What would she? For the last five years she'd been a myth. A campfire ghost story I tell my new girlfriends about. But she wasn't a story anymore. She was who I'd danced with that night.
She didn't call. She didn't show. I called her. She didn't answer.
I don't know why everything came crashing down. It just did. I made Deb and Scott's wedding film on my laptop and all I could do was cry. It wasn't about Molly. Not directly. It was the fact that Deb had gotten married before me. It was the fact that Tim had a girlfriend. I didn't. Jeff had a fiance. I didn't. Chris had a significant other. I didn't. I counted ten times during the reception when someone asked me who I had brought to the wedding and I had to answer "Myself." I told them about Amy, the fallout. Val refused to stop dancing with me until I felt better. I took comfort in her arms, then lied so her feet wouldn't get sore. I guess the fact that my EX girlfriend who I hadn't seen in years felt too chicken to sit and have a meal with me just made it so much more resonating. I'm sure she'll blame it on the fact that Steve's mom needed her and they cried their eyes out remembering him. He's dead. Think about that, ladies. We didn't ask the stubborn fuck to off himself. Selfish prick. I hope he's in Hell. I hate him for what he did to us all. Especially me.
Everyone is on their way. I'm right back where I started. Nowhere, with no one. And all I can do is watch people I don't know get married in pictures at my job. All in all, the weekend was not a loss. It was a gain. I'm glad everyone is healthy and happy.
I just wish I was, too. I want to die.