The very next day, after the Cambodian Wedding, G and I went to his best friend's wedding. G has been friends with this guy since they were, like, eight, or something, and this couple has been together for the better part of a decade. The stories are plentiful. The in-jokes abound. I'm just coming off about a year of knowing them, and I'm still trying to keep it all straight. I have to take a few minutes to talk about these individuals, because in a lapse of better judgement I gave Trip this URL. And frankly they are too much fun not to talk about.
G's best friend Trip is, well, a complete Trip. I mean the kid is nuts. As in Woo-HOO bouncing off the ceiling nuts. Especially when he's around G, and, well, I've never seen him not around G, so this is all I had to go on. I did see a whole other side of him at his wedding, but more on that later. He's a compu-geek, he's a gamer, he's got a redhead fetish, and he drinks Vanilla Coke. With nothing in it. Even when regular coke is available. He and G used to set stuff on fire all the time when they were kids. G tells me that he outgrew this at about age 14, but I think he just corraled the urges. Today, Trip lives in a house with a fireplace, and he lets G play with it, which is as sure a sign of trust as I've ever seen.
His girlfriend of somewhere around forever - now his wife - is an absolute slammer. She wins every board game we play. She is sweetly ruthless. She's one of those uber-smart Jewish girls who might not get straight A's, as she has a life outside her classes, but stupid people won't stand a chance around her. She'll leave you groaning on the mat. Not that I've ever argued with her. I just listen and take notes. She has a wicked sense of humour and paints her nails in colors as bold as her personality, bright red and purples and sparkles on holidays. She has her flaky moments, but she is one powerful, funny lady. For a brief time I was afraid she'd beat me senseless, as, you see, her man has a redhead fetish and gets goofy around me. That fear vanished pretty quick. That man is blotto over her, and she knows it. Which speaks to Trip being a lot smarter than he initially appears.
They are cute, they are cuddly, they are sex maniacs, they are Ren Faire fans, they are warm, loving people, they are cat lovers, they are survivors, and they are impressively well-adjusted and healthy individuals. Most of the time. You know, like me.
I remember when I was first introduced to them, G was a bit nervous. He wasn't sure how I'd take them. It does take a certain amount of ...openness... to get used to Trippy, and Slam can be intimidating on that "am I cool enough for this?" female level. But she has become one of my fave peeps now, and I wish we saw them more often. When G gets around his best friend, it gets very very loud, but I find this cathartic. It's hard for me to really relax, even in the comfort of my own living room. When I have two grown men spinning around screaming on either side of me, somehow my muscles slack. It is the oddest thing. It's like the tension gets sucked out of my pores through centrifugal force.
Anyway, anything that has me laughing so hard I'm running for the bathroom I need more of in my life. And G is always more relaxed after hanging with his buddies - "recharged" is the word he uses. I laugh my ass off, have great conversations, I'm stimulated and relaxed at the same time, and I feel comfortable enough in my own skin to sit around, say nothing and let the madness swirl around me. It's been a very, very long time since I've had friends like this, and man, what I have been missing.
So. The wedding.
G was the best man. OH MY GODDESS WHAT A FORMAL TUX DOES FOR A MAN. I'm gonna carry the memory of this tucked in my bra for a long time to come. He wore tails, people. Complete with white gloves, top hat, and a cane. Surprisingly, he didn't resemble Fred Astaire... more like Freddy Eynsford-Hill.
Trip and G
That's my baby G on the right, with the superman haircut and the smug look. It's too bad you can't see the knock-me-out-green eyes. Trippy is a dirty blonde with squeezy love handles, blue eyes, and check out those Queer-Eye-Approved sticky-outy bangs. They're holding up his too-big top hat. Can you stand it?
I decided to go with more of a Rita Hayworth look than an Eliza Doolittle:
Dressed Up and Feelin' Fine
These pics were snapped the morning of the wedding, and as you can see, it was break-out-the-shades sunny and near 70 degrees. Trip had spent the night before his wedding with us, so I got to be the first to see him in his groom finery. Mm-mm. We couldn't stand ourselves. The boys were fencing with their canes, while I couldn't keep my hands off my own slinky silk gown. At some point we all decided to get over ourselves and actually drive to the wedding. Cruisin' with the top down and the tunes blasting all the way from Sudbury to Andover. Perfect day, perfect clothes, perfect hair. What could go wrong?
The tent didn't collapse.
The Bridal party looked high-holy incredible in their formal finery.
G's best-man speech was riddled with in-jokes and made Slam cringe, but he kept it clean.
The photographer had a true artistic eye. The photos should be well worth the starvation.
All the personality conflicts were put on hold for the day, at least, when I was watching.
Nothing actually caught on fire.
The Andover fire department is very efficient. In and out in less than an hour.
The food, when we were allowed to eat it, was uber-delicious.
Nobody got drunk and puked.
Nobody woke up with Pneumonia the next day.
Nobody had to rush a child to the hospital after being summarily beaten by adults who had FUCKING HAD ENOUGH.
The DJ somehow escaped without having limbs torn from her snide self. Which belongs in the list of good things because, let's face it, nobody outside of daytime TV needs a murder at their wedding.
That cinnamon flavored decaf coffee was surprisingly delicious.
MORE cake! MORE! YEAH! MORE! Two nights in a row!
Rather late during the reception, after the fire trucks had gone, and the caterers were folding up the tables, the groom sang to his bride. He sang from his heart. And on key. And for a few minutes, although he and the Bride may have felt they were the only ones in the room, the rest of us were suddenly in a warm, dry, soft, loving place as well. I gripped G's tuxdeoed arm and tried not to cry. I didn't succeed.
Do I have to mention how radiant the bride was? How flushed with happiness? How we were all caught up in it? At slightly less than five feet tall, Slammer was elegant and adorable at the same time. She wore a traditional ballgown style gown, strapless, heavy white satin, lightly embroidered and beaded, about a four-foot train. She had a delicate tiara-thingy placed in her glossy black curls. The veil just hit the top lines of her dress, and when Trip lifted it at the start of the ceremony that tent suddenly felt a few degrees warmer. The cute little shoes. The slightly nervous smile.
A few minutes before the ceremony began, I snuck into her waiting area, where she was sitting on a green velvet couch in front of a heavily draped 20-foot window. I crouched down, held her hand, said something supportive, and tried not to get wishy-washy. The photographer snapped a picture:
Slam & Ouiser
I just couldn't resist soaking up all that romance radiating from her. Even a cynic like me...
By now, they have spent a week in Cancun, doing what fish do. All our best to you, Mr. and Mrs. Truth. See you soon.