Dear Future Husband,
I attended a wedding this past weekend. I’m not going to lie…it was awesome. It definitely set the bar preeeeeeeetty high for ours. Assuming you enjoy great company, awesome music, sweet dance moves and wine, you’d have loved it. (Let’s be honest, if you do NOT enjoy any of the aforementioned nouns, you are NOT my future husband…) (Ok, FINE, I won’t qualify you…but, please?!?!).
Anyhoo. The fateful moment – the bouquet toss – came towards the end of the reception. Usually, I ALWAYS conveniently have to use the ladies room at this point in the evening. But I clearly wasn’t paying attention, and, before I knew it, I was standing in the midst of the herd (thank GOODNESS there WAS a herd so that I wasn’t out there solo dolo).
Now, the details are kind of hazy…but the next thing I knew, the bouquet was no longer in the bride’s hands…
It was in mine.
CRAP! CRAP! CRAP!
Then, I ACTUALLY tossed it to someone else. WHO DOES THAT?! Me, apparently. But, approximately 200 people witnessed the initial catch, so there was no going back. I KNOW approximately 200 people witnessed it, because, before the night was over, at least half of them (slight exaggeration..maybe 7…OK, 4) sought me out to tell me congratulations. They congratulated me with such conviction and enthusiasm that you would have thought the wedding planner on hand had already penciled my pending nuptials in her planner. I wish.
I, however, just smiled and thanked each one of them. I chose NOT to reveal that this was my THIRD lucky catch. Clearly bouquets one and two weren’t made of the right kind of superstitious flowers. Oh well, SURELY third time’s a charm?
PS. I know the other saying is “three strikes, you’re out,” but I’m going to selectively ignore that one right now.