I do...

This is a lesson I learn this week: and I learnt it the hard way. I am never really excited by the prospect of weddings. It seems like too much of a faff. Everyone in the family was on edge for weeks: planning, decorating, discussing. I was sick of the wedding before it even happened.

And then it was the night before, and I got a sneak peek at the table plans. And lo and behold I was sat at a table of 11. Five couples and me. Great! That was going to be fun. I got to watch couple-y behaviour whilst trying not to gag on my food. But even I underestimated the couple-y behaviour of the day.

The day arrived and me and all the other bridesmaids got up at the crack of dawn to get our hair and make-up done. My hairdresser was in a foul mood, maybe it was because it was 8am or maybe it was because the champagne was already flowing and we were all getting quite rowdy, who knows. She wrestled with my hair, pulling it here and there, back-combing and fluffing and just generally stabbing me in the head. Getting my make-up done was a much more pleasant experience, and the result was AMAZING, even if I do say so myself.

Then came the manic rush to get to the church on time. I’m pretty sure that's a standard feature of weddings. Then the priest blabbed on for a while, and I tried not to giggle - maybe I’d already drunk a bit too much of the bubbly stuff. It didn't help that my maturity levels decline greatly as soon as I enter a church. That hour passed slowly, very slowly, before it was time to head off to the reception. The ushers and the bridesmaids were, well, ushered into a mini-bus and carted off to the venue in time to greet everyone as they arrived.

At the venue we were given yet more champagne. I was starting to think I should have just got it put on a drip, much easier, much less fuss. And then there was more drinking, more greeting people, more chatting and schmoozing. Lots of photos, lots more champagne – but nothing too interesting.

Then it came time to sit down. This was the bit I was dreading. But I was pretty bevvied up by this point and was in the place where I loved everything. I spent the meal not eating, and not really sitting at the table, just wandering around and flirting with the waiters.

But then the worse thing ever happened... I got a hangover.

It was 8pm and I was hungover. Just in time for the speeches as well. Not good, not good at all. So my solution? Down a pint of champagne. I do NOT recommend this; however, it did cure the hangover.

Then came the dancing, and everyone coupled off. And I started feeling a bit miffed. I had no one to hang out with. People stick to their partners at weddings, it’s like they’re trying to prove that their relationship is just as good as the bride and groom’s. A bit pathetic to be honest.

So I decided to spend some more time flirting with the waiters, which was fun, but they were working, so unfortunately couldn’t exactly be too much fun.

Then the band turned up.

I always thought bands who played at weddings were a bit lame, but this one had something special. That something was the drummer. The Scottish god who was wearing a tight black shirt and playing those drums so sexily. It was late when they finally finished playing, and I had once again sobered up, but I took it upon myself to have a lovely chat with him.

Although nothing happened, it was still nice. He was a lovely guy, and he took my mind off the fact that I’d just spent a whole day questioning my decision to stay single.

But then I realised, it wasn’t a boyfriend I was missing, it was my best friend. It’s been six weeks since I’ve seen her, and it’s very difficult.

Fortunately, I will be seeing her again this Thursday, and I cannot wait.

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