Four years ago, Dan and I got married. It was a good time.
Actually, it was more than a good time. It was a great time. I don't like to brag*, but our wedding was fucking awesome. Seriously. Don't believe me? Read on, my friend:
- At every wedding we have been to since, someone has mentioned that they had a great time at our wedding. Even the mother of my old arch-nemesis still reminds us what a good time she had.**
- The wedding was so touching that the photographer, who had shot hundreds of weddings, actually cried. Boo-yah! Making people cry!
- Several people liked our location so much that they attempted (and were in some cases successful) to get their own children to have their reception at the same place. The last time you got married, do you remember your parents begging you to let them pay for you to get married at a beautiful bed and breakfast in a town hundreds of miles from where you actually live? I think not.
- A few weeks after the wedding, we got a card from someone that had such a good time, that they wanted to thank us for being invited.***
- Martha Stewart disguised herself as a guest so she could get ideas.
- The hand of God came down during the ceremony to bless us personally, and then stuck around and jammed with the guitar player for our recessional (which was an Allman Brothers tune, if I remember correctly).
Okay, so the last two are made up. But it was fun.
* This is a lie. I love to brag.
** Please don't ask me how the parents of my arch-enemy got invited to my wedding.
*** You know, I'm not convinced about the italics. Kind of cheesy, wot?
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