Monday, 17 September 2012
On Saturday, I blubbed like a baby as we watched a friend I've known since I was knee high marry her true love. And I mean that without the slightest bit of sarcasm. I'm hungover - even now, I haven't got the wit to be snarky about my favourite subject - love. Of all the men in the world that my friend could have met, of all the men that someone could have been set up with her, she was introduced to her now husband. Call it fate, serendipity, cosmic alignment, God's good graces, luck... It happened. The picture above is the view from the hotel. I barely stopped myself from doing the intro dance from Coming to America as it was a Waldorf Astoria hotel. "She's your Queen to-hoooo beeeee!"
Then again I have wept child-like before. Oh my giddy aunt, when one of my best mates tied the knot, the minute she and her husband did their first dance, I was a mess. But for some reason, at the wedding on Saturday, I couldn't stop. It was ridiculous! They were tears of happiness, but relief at the passing of the struggle she'd been through, that her family came together, that no one argued or fought, that the registrar turned up - late but turned up. That I didn't mess up her face (I did her make up - long story), that I narrowly avoided getting trampled on when the bouquet was thrown and the glue on my false eyelashes held true despite the fact I kept crying.
I think the reason I was so emotional is a combination of a few things. Billy's a little older, a little wiser and definitely a little more cynical about relationships and love and marriage. But I'm still essentially a romantic who wants everyone to find that bit of happiness. I feel all warm and fuzzy about it all. Lucky with my friends and hopeful for the future. Know what's worse? I've got another friend whom I've known the same length of time who's getting married in less than three weeks. Screw waterproof mascara, it's back with the false lashes. There Will Be Tears. This will end up in a book somewhere, somehow. It's too emotional not to use.