After months of anticipation,this weekend one of my best friends got married. It was exciting to finally check into a hotel, get ready and head over for the ceremony. I was thrilled that my fella was invited to come along. We live together and have been a couple for the better part of the year, but we had yet to have occasion to sport our finest duds or dance with one another. Especially since we met in the midst of a long distance hike where physical appearance hardly made the list of priorities, and generally speaking I am a jeans/t-shirt kind of girl, I thoroughly enjoyed an opportunity to get dressed up and have my fella all spruced up as well. Despite it being mid October and a foreboding forecast or 50 degree temps and relentless rain, the ceremony was outdoors and the weather held. Chilly at first, once the ceremony began I found I was rather comfortable with a jacket over my legs, arms intertwined with my fellas, and a hand in his jacket pocket.
When the ceremony was over we all flooded in for the celebration to begin. Drinks, dinner, tons of dancing...a truly good time. I adore my fella... not only was he incredibly attractive in his suit, but he is the best date I could ask for. He talked with my friends, danced up a storm, all the while beaming at me with loving and joyful stares. And I, too, was loving every moment... until the same old shit reared it's ugly head.
A combination of drinks, a couple really terrible pictures taken with the bride, and feeling self conscious about dancing sent me spirally down from the highest high to a low low. I went from having a blast to wanting to leave that moment. And so we did... Perhaps one day I will manage to sort through all these lingering issues...or maybe I will learn to have one less glass of wine.
