Things I Think Of at Weddings

Last night, my thirty-two year-old cousin had his reception at Fiesta off Rte. 17 in New Jersey. Below are a few excerpts from the monologue that tends to run through my head at weddings:

I had trouble finding my placecard because whoever wrote them misspelled my name "Gerard." (Circling the farther rings of my extended family, fewer people actually know my name.)

My brother and I were seated at Table 7, which was coincidentally always the last table served. We had just received the main course when the DJ pumped up the music and yelled, "Let's get this party started!"

I had actually been first on the dance floor an hour earlier (my usual freestyle feel-the-beat). Granted, we were a fairly older crowd, but the energy seemed to be missing for the longest time. Usually, a couple of songs are played that I just have to dance to. Not the case here. It felt like an experiment, followed by no one. (If anyone captured my moves on camera, I'll post a few pics.)

When the time came for the bouquet and garter toss, the single women were shy to step up. The bride had to call on people to come up. (One person she called on was already engaged, so she didn't need the bouquet's power to bring on an engagement, am I right?)

On the groom's first attempt to toss the garter, he sling-shot it in the opposite direction. On the proper throw, I came closer than I ever have to making the catch. It landed next to me, and someone else dove for it. In the end, I was thankful, as they matched up the garter-catcher and the bouquet-catcher. (Is that the tradition? I thought catching was supposed to single-out the next people to marry, not that these people would marry each other.)

Rapidly approaching the big 3-0, I've seen many friends and relatives around my age marry and have children. I can't help wondering what happens after the reception, after the honeymoon. What then? I don't have the answer, which is probably the reason I'm single.