A wedding already.
Three days into the year and I'm tailed and waistcoated up. The Stag Guy of 'tache and tutu fame tied the knot.
We sat, we stood, we sang, we celebrated, we drank, we laughed, we ate, we danced, we cheered.
"She looks beautiful," said one guest.
"I can't believe he's finally done it," said another.
"Where's the loo?" said a third.
The doors opened, the cold rushed in, the bride picked up her train, the groom waved, and they disappeared together off into the night and into a new life.
I thought about love and marriage. How the odds seem stacked against us but we still keep trying. Then I caught my reflection in a mirror. Damn, I look good in tails. Maybe I should start wearing them all the time. It would look like I'm getting married every day. Or like I'm a mature student at Eton.
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