I rarely go to weddings. Mostly, I can count on one hand the number I've been to. The crowds. The pomp. The dressing up. The pretension. And now we have the current political climate that denies equal protection under the law to gay people. Mostly, I just stay home or go elsewhere.
And so, I made an exception and attended the wedding of a peep from work. A beach wedding. Casual dress. A pizza reception. Pretense checked at the door, and a weekend at the beach where I could run a little and bike a lot, filling myself with some warm salt air, all the while getting to know some work peeps outside the usual venue.
That I'd be the odd man out, that I'd be the one in a crowd of couples, that I'd be one of the few introverts in a crowd of extroverts, this would be a good developmental opportunity for me, and if it got to be too much, I could just fade into a long walk along the shore.
It worked out well. The hotel. The weather. The wedding. The quiet chats with peeps. Yes, at a corner table away from the action. I’m glad I went, and I’m even gladder I was invited to come. Now, if I just knew which last name to use on this card.