preach wine
Of course you know I was recently at a wedding. I made a toast at the wedding. I remember it very well. A woman in a fine dress sang a toast before me. She had a good voice and said very nice things in her song. I came up after her.
"Wonderful. It's not every day you see two people so married. It takes time. it's a lucky day to be so married. My friends, my two, well..."
I lifted my glass to the bride.
"I don't you know you very well." I took a sip and went on. "I've met many girls in my life, and I've yet to marry any of them. But the two of you are so incredibly married. I congratulate you."
Two toasts before me the bride's father had gotten up and cried. He said he was giving his daughter away. He said he didn't realize it would be so expensive to give her away. Many of the people had laughed. He went on crying and toasting. I was two toasts after him. I continued.
"It's just so damned hard these days. I tell the girls in the bars, 'if you act like a prostitute you're going to be treated like one.' I tell them every time. It's a hell of a pickup really. There's so many girls around. You can't go a day without seeing a girl. And every one of them reminds you that you're alone. Every step says 'I'm not yours.' Every cotton dress choking you, making you blind. But that's fine, you know. By the time you get around to introductions you find that this girl loves that guy, or that girl has a crush on both timmy and tommy, and you're so damned tired by the end of it you're happy to be alone. Because really, there isn't anyone left. No one was waiting for you. No one believed you existed in the first place. Their night in his armour faded into an ambiguous shape, easily filled. But you two..." I lifted my glass again to the bride. "I hardly know you, but you two, are in love. Gorgeous, beautiful love. It's what it all comes down to. Chasing after love. Not because you have it inside you, but because you think some one else has it, and maybe it'll bleed into you. The other day..."
I paused and finished the rest of my wine as I realized I had left my hand raised in a pre-emptive toast. A floating cheer. The room had lifted their glass passively, not in agreement, but traditionally, waiting for me to go somewhere. To reach a point, to wrap up with a poem promising a bright future and a bunch of fat fucking children nursing and shitting. A few followed my lead and sucked from their cups. They would have anyway. They were the drinkers. The one's with two glasses waiting, anticipating a night of toasts.
"The other day I met this girl. She wasn't great. But I sort of loved her for a minute. I just kind of wanted to have nineteen kids with her and marry her and just marry her, but... well, I didn't know her, but I met her, and really just loved the hell out of her. So I had a conversation. I talked and listened and rat tat tat. Incidentally she's been in love with this other guy, or she crushed him or something, but I'll be damned if he wasn't the sun and the moon, and the fucking clouds to her. I was happy for her. I never really thought we had a future anyhow. I've still got hair on my head and a square jaw and a flat stomach, and I know, as long as all these factors are firing I'll never marry. I just coherse. Manipulate. It's all borrowing. It's all slumber party's and parting. Parting and then comes night again and cheep affection is there. And if it's there I'll take it. I'll strangle it and mangle it. I'll love it and ask it to tell me a story. To touch my square jaw and kiss my speckless face. Run your hands through my hair, temperence. Be my part time wife. But some day I'll lose my hair and all the loves of the world will have let down all the girls, and I'll be damned if in that moment, with a pouch in my stomach and a new chin, that I won't be ready. Oh no, I'll be there. I'll be waiting with a weakened libido and the keys to the mini van. I'll be, well, you know..."
I took a sip from glass forgetting it was empty.
"Well. If I could just leave you with one thing, it's this; everybody's looking so hard, grabbing on to the first guy who love's hemingway just as much as they do, or played with my little pony's, or cut's their own hair, when it comes down to it--everyone is a waste of time. It's all used goods, and every heart has been loaned out too many times to count so by the time you show up all that's left is a body. A cold carcass that thinks you, finally you, will be the one that knows how to warm it. Well don't bother. You're just as cold. You're just as cold."
I raised my empty glass. It was completely dry. It had forgotten it had ever held anything. I looked out at the faces. The groom with his beautiful beedy eyes and tight tall curls crawling out of his head. I saw the bride who I didn't know very well. Their parents frowned, the brides maids shifted.
"But, I guess this doesn't really concern you, because you're so married already, I take it back. Prevail. Do it all. See the grand canyon."
I took a huge shot from my empty cup, then sat down. Several other people followed me, giving toasts. Most of them were much better than mine. Except, there was one guy who seemed very nervous, so his didn't go too well. But we all toasted anyhow. We raised our glasses and said amen.
One of the flower girls eyed me all night because I had said the F-word.
"Wonderful. It's not every day you see two people so married. It takes time. it's a lucky day to be so married. My friends, my two, well..."
I lifted my glass to the bride.
"I don't you know you very well." I took a sip and went on. "I've met many girls in my life, and I've yet to marry any of them. But the two of you are so incredibly married. I congratulate you."
Two toasts before me the bride's father had gotten up and cried. He said he was giving his daughter away. He said he didn't realize it would be so expensive to give her away. Many of the people had laughed. He went on crying and toasting. I was two toasts after him. I continued.
"It's just so damned hard these days. I tell the girls in the bars, 'if you act like a prostitute you're going to be treated like one.' I tell them every time. It's a hell of a pickup really. There's so many girls around. You can't go a day without seeing a girl. And every one of them reminds you that you're alone. Every step says 'I'm not yours.' Every cotton dress choking you, making you blind. But that's fine, you know. By the time you get around to introductions you find that this girl loves that guy, or that girl has a crush on both timmy and tommy, and you're so damned tired by the end of it you're happy to be alone. Because really, there isn't anyone left. No one was waiting for you. No one believed you existed in the first place. Their night in his armour faded into an ambiguous shape, easily filled. But you two..." I lifted my glass again to the bride. "I hardly know you, but you two, are in love. Gorgeous, beautiful love. It's what it all comes down to. Chasing after love. Not because you have it inside you, but because you think some one else has it, and maybe it'll bleed into you. The other day..."
I paused and finished the rest of my wine as I realized I had left my hand raised in a pre-emptive toast. A floating cheer. The room had lifted their glass passively, not in agreement, but traditionally, waiting for me to go somewhere. To reach a point, to wrap up with a poem promising a bright future and a bunch of fat fucking children nursing and shitting. A few followed my lead and sucked from their cups. They would have anyway. They were the drinkers. The one's with two glasses waiting, anticipating a night of toasts.
"The other day I met this girl. She wasn't great. But I sort of loved her for a minute. I just kind of wanted to have nineteen kids with her and marry her and just marry her, but... well, I didn't know her, but I met her, and really just loved the hell out of her. So I had a conversation. I talked and listened and rat tat tat. Incidentally she's been in love with this other guy, or she crushed him or something, but I'll be damned if he wasn't the sun and the moon, and the fucking clouds to her. I was happy for her. I never really thought we had a future anyhow. I've still got hair on my head and a square jaw and a flat stomach, and I know, as long as all these factors are firing I'll never marry. I just coherse. Manipulate. It's all borrowing. It's all slumber party's and parting. Parting and then comes night again and cheep affection is there. And if it's there I'll take it. I'll strangle it and mangle it. I'll love it and ask it to tell me a story. To touch my square jaw and kiss my speckless face. Run your hands through my hair, temperence. Be my part time wife. But some day I'll lose my hair and all the loves of the world will have let down all the girls, and I'll be damned if in that moment, with a pouch in my stomach and a new chin, that I won't be ready. Oh no, I'll be there. I'll be waiting with a weakened libido and the keys to the mini van. I'll be, well, you know..."
I took a sip from glass forgetting it was empty.
"Well. If I could just leave you with one thing, it's this; everybody's looking so hard, grabbing on to the first guy who love's hemingway just as much as they do, or played with my little pony's, or cut's their own hair, when it comes down to it--everyone is a waste of time. It's all used goods, and every heart has been loaned out too many times to count so by the time you show up all that's left is a body. A cold carcass that thinks you, finally you, will be the one that knows how to warm it. Well don't bother. You're just as cold. You're just as cold."
I raised my empty glass. It was completely dry. It had forgotten it had ever held anything. I looked out at the faces. The groom with his beautiful beedy eyes and tight tall curls crawling out of his head. I saw the bride who I didn't know very well. Their parents frowned, the brides maids shifted.
"But, I guess this doesn't really concern you, because you're so married already, I take it back. Prevail. Do it all. See the grand canyon."
I took a huge shot from my empty cup, then sat down. Several other people followed me, giving toasts. Most of them were much better than mine. Except, there was one guy who seemed very nervous, so his didn't go too well. But we all toasted anyhow. We raised our glasses and said amen.
One of the flower girls eyed me all night because I had said the F-word.