My car arrived today. I got in and found a playbill from the Mehtro dance recital on the floor of the back seat, the one where Glenn met the trollop for the first time. That was lovely. My car is a time capsule of my past.
My friends D and D got married this weekend. Their wedding was at the Colonnade downtown, and it was lovely. Our college crowd is great. Everyone is engaged or married but that's par for the course. The ceremony was short and beautiful. D and D are so right for each other that there was no need for tears of any kind. They make *sense*. The reception was a little rocky. I saw no reason to hold back at the open bar and proceeded to get completely smashed. The steady flow of alcohol distracted me from any sappy music that was played so I could stay focused on the food, which happened to be excellent. I only melted down once, when they played that Etta James song, "At Last," which had been my vote for Glenn's and my first dance. My friends M and A shepherded me to the bathroom and handed me warm towels until the crying subsided. No judgement, no criticism. I LOVE THEM.
Someone asked me today how I could have subjected myself to a wedding after what happened. But I'll be damned if I let Glenn get in the way of my happiness for my friends.
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