drumroll, please.

I never go to weddings.

I'm not, like, morally opposed to them or anything. I think they're a pretty big deal. I just...never go.

I guess I do when it's family. My cousin got married a few weeks ago, and I went then. But I left as soon as I could, grateful to have the excuse of a work shift on a Saturday night half an hour's drive away. That one's easier to understand, though. I don't need a hundred questions from distant relations about the weight I've put on and the bylines they never see in print (because evidently the Internet doesn't work in Arizona) and, most of all, why I haven't had one of "these" yet.

But I don't go to non-family weddings, either. Plenty of men in their late twenties see reception attendance as a chore, but I honestly don't think I'm one of them. You get to wear a suit, for one thing. You get to see pretty girls in dresses, for another. There's cake, and there's dancing, and if the happy couple have any taste at all there's a live band playing jazz, which is the only thing you should dance to in a suit anyway.

Part of it is my schedule; I know I'm simply not available most nights (and, consequently, sleeping most mornings), so I don't bother asking when the blessed event is. Part of it is that, these days, I don't have many friends about whose nuptials I would give a crap. (The ones I did care about have long since passed, along with our friendships.) And yes, one cannot rule out a healthy dose of envy, a dislike of the reminder that they know something I never have, and that the money line isn't exactly trending in my favor.

You want to know the real reason?

I want to meet her there.
I want to catch her looking at me across a crowded chapel or ballroom or pavilion.
I want to walk over to her, and ask her name, and ask her to dance.
I want to hear "My One and Only Love" emerge from a saxophone, sweet and breath-filled, as I take her hand.
I want my feet to be light, and her eyes to shine, and the world to slow, to shimmer, a crystalline memory, imperishable, coruscating, lustrous, clear.

I want that more than I can say.

And that's why I don't go.

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