Where Am I Going, And Why Am I In This Handbasket?

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

My ex is getting married.

Don't worry, it's not one of THOSE posts. I'm not freaking out. I'm not shocked that yet another ex somehow moved past me and found someone else worthy enough for an actual commitment. The Commitment. I haven't personalized it or made it about Me. I've just got to assume that they're okay settling with less pretty less funny less interesting less intillectual less dynamic lesser lovers. Hahaha. I do not want to pour myself a vat of wine.

Okay, seriously. That's not the point of this post. We're friends. He's a great guy and I'm lucky to have known him. I'm just giggling a little at his recent claim about his upcoming wedding, is all:

So he's getting married this summer. He just informed me that he will be playing his guitar and singing and dancing. He's a bit of a kidder, so I'm not sure how much of that is actually true. I wrote him back pretending like I believed him, as usual, and asked for more details:

HIS RESPONSE:
Interesting that you should be more surprised by my guitar/singing work (acoustic) at the wedding, and spend not even a moment commenting on the dance portion of the performance. This tells me you find my singing and guitaring less plausible... if I read a little more into it, I would guess it also means you remain awed by my work on the dance floor. No need to be embarassed about this, you're not the only one who feels that way. Some people have a gift, and luckily they share it with the world. To tell you the truth, I think it's selfish when people with such blessings lock them away from the people who would benefit just be in their presence. Anyway, I'll let you know how it comes out.

ME:
Okay, I chose to ignore the DANCING part. I thought surely you JEST. At least the Guitar part had a toehold on reality. Goodness. Don't embarass your wife. Unless she thinks your Lucky Charm Kick is part of your charm. WOAH, then.

SERIOUSLY. Is this a choreographed thing? Are you singing Kermie's Rainbow Connection song like the groom did at that wedding I took you to in Cali where you were petrified of the fucking garter and my father had to drag you on the dance floor the SECOND time they threw the thing because not ONE man budged a fucking inch to grab the flying garter on the first toss which you were curiously absent for and that SECOND time when you stayed in the back of the mancrowd and cowered like it represented some betroathement contract or something if you flinched an inch and revealed yourself and the long-haired whitetrash father of the groom finally bent over to pick up the diseased garter after it sat on the silent dance floor for what seemed like an eternity while I stood there trying not to to feel like the ugly flat pre-teen wallflower with a headgear being rejected by the entire male species and my supposed boyfriend who apparently assumed I was trying to chain him to me or something. HAHAHAHA. Don't sing THAT song. Unless you are. Then I'm sure it will be lovely.

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 1:50 PM :: 0 Comments:

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