Y'know, Emily just got married last year. Not to her prom date--or her first college boyfriend, incidentally. It was actually to her biology TA. (Heheheh...biology...heheheh...) I'd call her a slut if I hadn't met the guy--Kyle. Oy. I'd have failed the class too, with a teacher like that. Can't blame the girl a wit. I wasn't able to make it, but they swung by my place the week before the wedding. They seemed disgustingly happy, so Emily must've worked her cue reading skills out eventually. And I'm really happy for her. Disgusted, but happy.
I only ever went to one wedding--a friend of my brother Nate's. He took me as his date, which would have been much sweeter if he'd had other options. It was fun, though. I helped him pick out a tie; he helped me pick out a dress--apparently black is frowned upon for weddings. Shame. We found a pretty nice burgundy number, though--I was up to a 5.2 by this point, which helped. I tried to twist his arm into wearing a burgundy tie, but I think he was already regretting asking me to go, so I didn't push the point too hard.
It was an indoor wedding, which was good, 'cause it poured all day. I've never really understood why someone would even risk planning a wedding outside--talk about stress. I mean, seriously, isn't there enough on your mind?! My wedding plans always included a castle in Scotland, though, so perhaps I'm not one to talk about crazy wedding locations.
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