Just before Christmas, Harold and I went to the wedding of a high school friend in my New Jersey hometown. I basically cried from when we sat down, because I always cry at weddings, and also because I’m over thirty now and I’m engaged now and I just have all these feelings.
A bunch of my high-school girl friends were the bridesmaids, and at the reception, the DJ introduced them all by their married names, because they have husbands now and that’s what people do. It suddenly seemed like it would be romantic and right to be Mrs. Harold Sipe, and that feeling lasted until I thought about how many credits I have as Meg Stivison, and, well, tradition can suck it.
Harold and I were seated with bunch of my old friends and their spouses, catching up, eating way too much amazing food, and dancing a lot. Meredith and Rob had a great DJ with a perfect mix of songs (Did you know that music selection is just one out of the ten thousand decisions you are supposed to make when plan a wedding?), and it was kind of awesome to be dancing around with friends from fifteen or so years ago, doing the same ridiculous hyper dances we did at eighth grade dances in the gym, at parties and proms. Only, you know, one of my girlfriends gave birth just a few weeks ago and another was still nursing her daughter, and I hurt my stupid back, so the dancing was slightly more restrained than when we were younger. But no less exuberant!
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