I’m on a too-short lunch break, but it’s been a few days, and plenty of things have happened that deserve mention.  

The Wedding Weekend was really pretty perfect.  My roommate (D) and his girlfriend (L) and I all piled into D’s incredibly hot classic BMW and raced to the mountains on Friday after work.  It was late-ish when we arrived in Town, so we caught a quick dinner and called his friends, my friends, and eventually, we all wound up in the same place, round about 1 a.m.  It was pretty excellent.  I got to see The Minister and The DJ, who I hadn’t seen in exactly a year.  They both seem happy, and they both looked fabulous.  The Minister and I got sucked into a lengthy, philosophical discussion, as we are prone to doing, and come to find out, that is precisely what my mind been craving.  So, thanks.  D and his friends and I migrated back to the Outpost and stayed up until about 4, sitting on D’s dad’s amazing porch (it’s on the historic trolley tours…the tour guides lie and say O’Henry lived there), laughing and carrying on.  

Saturday morning, we got up, had a late breakfast on the front porch, and then L and I ran to have pedicures (awesome!) before the wedding.  We got to the wedding only a minute before the ceremony was supposed to start, but it was pouring rain (outdoor wedding) so they held the ceremony for an hour and a half, and opened up the bar.  Without serving food.  Poor planning on their part, clearly.  The white wine was really good.  I drank my fair share.  I met the groom’s aunt Jo while sneaking off to smoke cigarettes…she was friggin’ hysterical, and my wedding-stranger BFF.  As there was no wedding planner, FireBall ran around facilitating for the whole day.  It’s understandable, everyone wants her attention, everywhere she goes, so I was not surprised, or ever phased…and she looked incredible in formal wear.  Me and D and L had an amazing time…drinking, dancing, chatting, laughing, going on adventures and missions to sober up…it was more fun than three humans should be allowed at 5 pm on the streets of Small Town Appalachia.  

After the bride and groom left, the wedding party and my party migrated to an Irish pub.  FireBall came out of nowhere and jumped in the backseat of D’s car with me, as I was in the middle of a ‘costume change’, from dress to jeans.  I haven’t talked to her face in weeks, and the first time we have a real encounter, I’m half-naked in the backseat.  We had a good laugh over that.  Proceed to the bar, where we spend the next very short hour and change pressed as close to one another as humanly possible (we still haven’t kissed, even…she’s telling me she’s scared of feelings but what difference does that fear make when The Feelings are clearly present and accounted for?)  The award for most precious moment of the evening:  one, sweet instance where FB simply leaned forward a few inches and pressed her face into my chest, and held it there still and quiet, our breathing in sync, my arm around her waist, my face pressed in her hair, and I could smell the Third World on her then, in the clean, sweet, spicy way that’s unique to her.  She lifted her head when the drinks came, and I told her I missed her.  She told me she loved me.  We ate L’s french fries in silence, trying to sober up, our knees and thighs and elbows and arms pressed so close it almost hurt.  

When we said goodbye a few minutes after that, D and L stood a few feet away, trying, respectfully, to fade away.  She hugged me once, took two steps back and looked in my face, and then hugged me again, longer and tighter, before quickly retreating inside the bar as I walked slowly to catch up with my friends on the sidewalk ahead.  It was sad to say goodbye, but knowing I’ll see her soon, I was left with a feeling of elation as we drove home that night.  I like her so much.  Our thought processes are so similar, our methods and our madness so closely related that I come away from every interaction feeling like I Get It/She Gets It.  

The next morning, our last in Town, D’s dad made us delicious pancakes with fresh-from-his-garden blackberries, and sent us on our merry way, tired, hungover, and all of us grinning in the glare of the sun.  Pretty perfect, excepting the fact that we couldn’t find a roof to fly our trick kites.