Saturday, September 09, 2006

Sunday, Part IV: drinking, dancing, dessert and delight

And she’s off
Literally two seconds after I finished signing Lucy and Chet’s marriage license, I reached for a gigantic box of baklava and my entire mode of thinking.

“You are no longer just a bridesmaid,” a pesky little bird on my shoulder whispered, “you are a hostess. Make your mom and your grandma proud.”

I totally did.

Every woman in my mom’s family is a natural entertainer and, despite what I may claim to get myself out of doing dishes on Thanksgiving, I am not an exception. I spent my evening straddling two roles: that of the doting and charming maid of honor and that of the hostess with the mostest.

I arranged baklava in my bridesmaid dress. I eyed discarded cups and found a garbage can to dispose of them in. I made sure candles were lit. I kept the dessert table well stocked.

And I still had fun.

Being a hostess, to me, truly is fun. But I also had fun in the traditional way. Hosting the dollar dance. Smiling for pictures. Dancing with the girls. Charming every old man in attendance. Acting as I would have had Lucy and Chet’s wedding been in a more traditional setting, with servers bustling around to take care of the little imperfections that would catch my eye.

Luckily, Mom and Dad came to the wedding. Thankfully, Mom’s hostess gene is also dominant. She helped tremendously. Between the two of us, the reception ran smoothly while looking nothing like a frat party.

What more can you ask for?

Indecent proposal
On one of the 8,000 trips I made inside Lucy’s aunt and uncle’s house, I ran into Lucy and one of the groomsmen.

At brunch earlier in the day, Lucy glanced in this groomsman’s direction and murmured, “someone has a crush.”

It was right before my toast; I didn’t have time to ask for clarification.

In Lucy’s aunt and uncle’s kitchen, the groomsman clarified it pretty well.

He asked me to have sex with me.

This groomsman, who I had not met previously, who Lucy had described as a “lady killer” was not joking. He was not trying to be funny. He was being absolutely serious.

He was trying to get me into bed.

I blew off his proposal in such a way that left Lucy in hysterics.

I was slightly offended.

But mostly flattered.

He’s super cute.

I still wouldn’t sleep with him. Not like that.

Frosting in nostrils
Here’s how much Lucy and Chet needed me during the reception: Lucy had completely forgotten about the cake until I whispered a reminder in her ear.

Unfortunately, a bit of frosting had peeled off of the side of the cake. (Remember, the woman told Lucy that she absolutely did not make wedding cakes!) Fortunately, my mom repaired it to the point of near perfection.

Only to have Lucy and Chet maul each other with it.

They were slightly more aggressive than your normal newlyweds.

But, honestly, what the hell DID they do like your normal newlyweds?

I should not forget to mention that I got felt up by one of Chet’s random Israeli friends, too.

Pervert. Pervert in a red shirt.

I was just dancing with the bridesmaids and, all of a sudden, there he is, hanging all over my white ass. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me right up to his hips and all I wanted to do was knee him in the balls. I pity-danced with him for a few seconds before pulling away to return to the girls.

Repeat seven times.

Red shirt Israeli guy finally gets the hint.

Awesome, incredible, awesome
Lucy couldn’t get over my helpfulness. Nobody could, really. I heard it from everyone – aunts, uncles, friends, Lucy’s mom, Lucy’s brother’s girlfriend, the neighbor – but Lucy was the most consistent.

Every time she looked at me, she said it. “You’re incredible! I can’t thank you enough!”

“You are so awesome. I don’t know how you’re doing all of this. You’re awesome. This is incredible.”

“You are incredible.”

“You’re awesome.”

“You’re doing an incredible job.”

“You’re awesome at this.”

And on.

And on.

And on.

This is mostly the alcohol’s fault. But I’m glad to know that my work was appreciated.

It’s incredible, actually.

The Dateless Wonder
One of the more difficult parts of the reception was a fleeting moment. One of the other bridesmaids, whose boyfriend was actually the photographer, casually said to me, “well, at least I can hang out with you, since you don’t have a date.”

Thank you so much for pointing that out to me.

I forgot one important thing
But for one shot that Lucy forced me into, I didn’t have one drink the entire night. I was too busy.

“You’re so good, even when you’re drunk you’re being the hostess,” one of the other bridesmaids slurred to me.

I responded with a smile and without a correction.

Drunk, perhaps. But merely on happiness and a lack of sleep.

She also chauffeurs
Considering my role, considering Lucy’s constant repetition of “you’re incredible,” “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and “seriously. You’re so awesome,” I found it somewhat amusing that I was the one who drove Lucy and Chet back to the hotel.

It’s a short drive. Maybe seven minutes. Lucy mostly babbled on and on about how she thought people were genuinely having a good time. They weren’t pretending! They wanted to be there!

And, every 10 seconds or so, she would break in with a “you’re just incredible. People kept asking ‘who is that bridesmaid who is just everywhere? She’s awesome!’” and I would brush her compliments aside.

I told her that it was nothing. That it was the least I could do.

And I meant that.

When I dropped them off at their side of the hotel, I got a kiss on the cheek and more of the ongoing monologue of my awesomeness.

And then they were gone.

And I went to my room. Feeling mostly happy.

And the tiniest bit sad.


M said...

Awww! how cute. My bride was too anal to let me help with most stuff. It sucked because her maid of honor was her younger sister, who didn't know what was going on. But it was fun anyway. The spray tan worked out really well for the most part. i was glad I did it. thanks for the advice!

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