For Your Love is Better Than Wine (Part 1)

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

I have fun and fond stories to share of Swetus and my attempts to nurse him, but for another day as well. I will say that he looks at me in a way that doesn't make me scared of looking back. And I am in profound wander lust of his form.

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely.

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I woke up early on Saturday, excited like a kid on Christmas. Swetus and I had a late night before, though my plan was to get a full night's rest so I would look that much more fabulous. But he and I are no good at keeping our hands to ourselves, so I had to settle for a rosy flush instead of perfect beauty sleep.

"You're really happy for them, aren't you?"

"I am"

"You'll have to tell me all about it."

"I will. And I can't promise you what state I'll be in when I call you."

"It's okay. I'll buy a mini-keg. When you call, I'll know how much I have to catch up to."

"Deal. Gotta go get pretty."

"Oh, you." [he says that to me all the time]

Spring had offered to let me bring him as my date, Conor had offered to have me bring him as well. I declined both offers. I want him to meet all my friends, and he's met a few, but I want it to be when it's time. Saturday was not about my new boy or showing off him to anyone, it was about Chris and Spring. I can show him off to people who won't judge or assume anything about him in the right environment. And there were going to be ugly and shameful parts of my past involved, and I wanted to keep this new and pure thing as far away from it as I could. I explained it to him and without any resentment, he said he understood.

"Plus," he said, "I'm a terrible dancer."

And it was settled. For as much as he touches me and looks at me and wants to spend time with me, I have tested him willfully and not sensed an ounce of jealousy in him. These things are important when dealing with me.

I get ready slowly since I have plenty of time. My hair is being really good today (anyone with curly hair will understand where I'm coming from).

Then it's all okay. Swetus gathers his stuff to go home, as I gather my stuff to go to the hotel where Spring's folks are staying to help her get ready. And help me get ready. I had lost weight since the last time I tried on my dress, and with not too much time left, we were going to be forced to ghetto-pin me into the dress. Not a problem. I don't hang out with all these theatre people to not have someone know how to safety pin a dress in a pinch.

We step outside. It is positively shitty. It is raining and cold and the wind is blowing in 10 different directions. The wedding is going to be outside. On a bridge. I will have bare legs. Swetus voices some concern over that last part, but I just tell him this will be the most worthwhile pneumonia I ever contracted. After all, what good are health benefits if you never get to use them?

I get to the hotel and immediately have to leave again because Spring doesn't have a thong or a bra for the dress. Spring's sister is pinning her hair, her mother is not feeling well but trying to put the flowers together, Spring's dad seems just sort of amused by all the estrogen-induced chaos in the room, and Spring's niece and nephew are watching Nickelodeon. I get a headache immediately upon my return. It's a big rush, Sharon shows up, she helps me pin my dress. We have tons of stuff to bring to the reception place, we need to take a car, we're already 20 minutes behind schedule and because of the rain, a car service is on a 2 hour delay and cabs are not so amenable to going out to Brooklyn. I tried to get Spring to cry. LOOK, STUPID CABBIE!! You made the bride cry!!! Spring is not the actress of the bunch and didn't cry on command like I told her to, but we managed to get everything in two cabs and on the way. Too bad the cabbie didn't really know where he was going. Neither did we.

Over the bridge, Spring looked to Sharon and I and said, "Today is the shittiest day in the world." There was a bemused helplessness in her voice. And moments like these are why you have bridesmaids:

"Noooooo! It'll be fine. The rain has hours to clear up!"

"Yeah, and all the rain will ensure is that there won't be a lot of foot traffic up on the bridge!"

"AND it's sort of perfect that it'd rain, sort of ironic, you know?"

"And the grey sky really accentuates your new red hair!"

While all these things were true, we were still talking out of our asses. It WAS one of the shittier days on record. But we weren't about to let Spring know that we know that, too. Our job is to keep her as positive as possible, and to get her to the bridge on time. Or as close as we possibly can, given our current state of affairs.

Not that I didn't have faith, but my tummy seemed to betray me. I wished I had ten mouths to smoke ten cigarettes all at the same time.

Luckily for us and for Spring, out of their stag invites, I wound up having THREE dates: Aron, Conor, and Devon. I told them to meet us at the reception place. Without them, I don't think there would have been any decorations to speak of. Truly heroes, those boys. And we definitely put them to work. Coming up on T-minus 5 minutes in counting, it all seemed a bit too chaotic for me to think that this could really happen, but Spring came out from the bathroom after getting dressed.

She looked like a goddess. Like Rita Hayworth. She'd kill ya as much as kiss ya, and you'd be fine with either. My beautiful friend, beautiful on the inside and out, looks positively radiant. I choke up a little bit. But the one thing I got wrong with my look was that I forgot my waterproof mascara at the office and so if I was going to make it through this wedding looking as fabulous as I wanted to, then I was going to have to toughen up. I whisper in her ear that she looks lovely.

And then it's time to go.

But it's much like the opening of every show I've ever been involved in. Massive craziness, no one really thinks we'll be able to pull everything off. But as with every show I've ever been in, the best thing to do is throw your hands in the air and take one giant leap of faith. Just not off the bridge you're getting married on.

We all had umbrellas, we all shivered a bit, but by the time we reached the place that we were doing the ceremony, the rain had almost entirely stopped. See? All you need is a little faith. I notice the Unmentionables for the first time. It's the first time I've seen one of them since the bet. And you know what? My hairdresser was right. I looked amazing, and they looked like assholes. And when I also thought about all the work that everyone put into making this moment happen, I felt sorry for them for being such douchebags. Between me, Sharon, Jeremy, Eric, and Laura, we bent over backwards to make this day happen. We would have fucking BUILT the goddamn Brooklyn Bridge for those two. It seemed all the Unmentionables could do was show up on time and wear hats. And the hats were probably more for their own amusement than anything else.

But for the first time since I fell into the trap door of their fucked-up Degenerate world, I could give a shit what they think. I'm looking at Chris and Spring, and they look as giddy as kids. I look at Eric, our friend who became a minister online to marry them, in full kilt and with booming voice, read a very respectful and touching "sermon." I look at Sharon at key moments, both of us knowing the girly impact of what's happening before us. We touch pinkies at one point, a little "hey, I love you too" tip-of-the-hat to platonic love as well. And I keep my shit together, though every single element would have me do otherwise. Why? Because I don't want to fuck up my makeup. Yup. I'm THAT vain. But I must have been trained well, because Devon later told me:

"I was watching you. You came close to crying, but you didn't. That's my girl!"

A kiss seals the deal and the wind goes right up my skirt and reminds me that we'd better move this show along or I will freeze to death right here. A wedding and funeral all wrapped up in one. I think that's more ironic than Alanis would have you think.

And thus ends Part 1. Part 2 is gonna be a doozy.