By Alexa Day
This is the first warm Saturday I’ve seen in a pretty long time, and I spent it on the beach with my notebook, in front of my favorite beachside biker bar. At sunset, a wedding took place in the little gazebo not far from my blanket. The bride wore a pale green dress, bedecked with sequins, and she posed with her bridesmaids for photos just as darkness fell.
That’s my kind of wedding. I love nontraditional bridal fashions, and the bridesmaids apparently got to choose dresses for themselves, so long as they all wore the same color. But the best part was that I was far away from the whole thing. I was a bystander and not a guest.
A couple of years ago, I made an agreement with myself that I wasn’t attending any more weddings. Now that I’m a certain age, I don’t have to avoid many such joyous occasions, but I try to steer clear of them anyway. The wedding isn’t really a single girl’s event, truth be told. It’s murder to find someone to bring — like the office party, it is not something to which one invites a man outside a relationship. Then there’s the Singles Quarantine, the one table that is home to all the uncoupled guests … and sometimes unchaperoned children as well.
And of course, there’s all the questioning about why this isn’t your wedding.
Stronger people than I continue to attend weddings in spite of all this. Maybe they honestly enjoy them, and maybe they buy into that shopworn threat that unless they attend and have a delightful time, then no one will come when their magical day finally arrives. I don’t know. I can only say that at this point, the only thing that could convince me to attend even one more wedding is a prime set of groomsmen.
Friends, groomsmen are like the other wedding buffet. While the other guests can only look with their eyes, a single girl gets to enjoy a fine assortment of groomsmen to their very fullest. And there’s a lot to enjoy.
The groomsmen are all generally in a good mood, if a bit hungover. The wedding is the culmination of a days-long party for the gentlemen. They’re able to enjoy their friend’s day a bit differently (for one thing, Western wedding traditions don’t seem to rely on bedeviling single men about their status). They’re relaxed and having a good time in a festive setting, which means they’re amenable to flirting with single guests.
They’re all freshly pressed in fancy dress for the special occasion. They might even be in kilts. Be honest — what chance do we have to see that many dudes in kilts in one place? Sure, changing fashions don’t even demand a tie for weddings anymore, but as long as the chance of kilts is higher than zero, I say that hope springs eternal.
Finally, after the happy couple is off to spend their wedding night together, the groomsmen are left with a bit of time on their hands. Their responsibilities are for the most part taken care of, and they drift over toward the alcohol in search of something to do. Suddenly, not bringing a plus one is a very good idea. After all, if one is with a man, one can’t take another man home. It’s bad form. Don’t ask how I know.
So who has a scandalous story featuring a groomsman (or groomsmen, I’m open-minded like that)? Has anyone ever met a married groomsman? Who else has sworn off weddings altogether? Speak now.
And follow Lady Smut. We’ll plight your troth real good.