Ushered at a friend's wedding today. JC and CC. Beautiful couple, some good friends. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. We had the ceremony in this quaint historic church an hour away. All the while, I was trying to not trip on the carpet and fall (I did not), or step on the toes of any of the ladies I ushered up to their seats (I did, just once)
It was funny how the bride's mother had an interest in setting me up with some pretty little Chinese girl because she thought I was this single Cantonese-speaking doctor (no one else at the reception spoke to her in Chinese). In fact, a year ago she asked CC for my picture so that she could circulate to her friends with single daughters. So I complied, and sent her a picture of a chimp in drag carrying a microphone (I kid you not). Luckily when I met the bride's mother this time, she didn't say anything about that picture.
The reception was held in the hall of the conservatory at a nearby park. Surrounded by the lush greenery, two reflecting pools with water lillies. It was gorgeous.
Kris found out that I don't dance. In fact, most guys I know would rather have a nail driven through their toe just to get out of dancing. Dancing for many guys, really, is just killing time before you take your date home to ahem, bed them.
"Honey, when can we leave and go home to, uh, make out?"
And then, there are guys who dance those early 80's breakdance moves. The ones whose dates leave early. But naturally, at every party, there's always the guy who likes dancing, and dances well. He knows how to twirl and spin the girls, and in the process, makes them look good dancing. Those are the guys you'd love to hate.
Me, when I do dance, I dance like an ataxic elephant with 3 peg legs and an eye patch in the throes of a seizure. But I suppose, with some alcohol, anyone can be like Travolta. But maybe I had a little too much to drink, no?