Wedding Bonanza

With the smell of my twice worn cap and gown still fresh in my mind, I would like to think that my four years of college at least equipped me for every type of social encounter that “life” could throw at me.  Apparently, I had forgotten about the one drunkfest of an event that some like to call a wedding.  Now before you think, “oh my god, how could he never have been to a wedding?”  Well, I actually had two wedding ceremonies (masses) under my belt, however I was not of the age to consume; ergo, my parents opted to leave me at home, high and dry, literally.  Well, not anymore as my godsister was finally getting married after seemingly years of planning.  Let’s just say I didn’t anticipate a Wedding Crashers type scenario with a plethora of exotically attractive women at every pew.  Rather, I anticipated about 3 women present within 5 years of my age.  If only that weren’t the exact case as we shall see.

Anyway, the mass started ordinarily enough, with hearty prayers to the God who brought us evolution, racism, and Kentucky Fried Chicken (not in any particular order).  Before long I lost track of the monseigneur’s face and began scanning the pews for potential females.  Much to my surprise, at my three o’clock I found a jewel that would have made Francis Drake’s jaw drop.  This blond bombshell had a flawless face with chiseled features, radiantly warm green eyes, and a truly gushing smile, not to mention perfectly bronzed with a body to boot.  Not as if she needed any physical augmentation, her strapless dress further accentuated her genetic gifts.  Unfortunately for you readers, this is where the softcore porn ends.

After the marathon mass ended (I didn’t know it was the first Sunday in November) after an hour and a half, we migrated ten minutes west to the famed Sleepy Hollow Country Club.  This truly idyllic setting is quite honestly the perfect place to host a wedding reception.  I felt like I was actually living through Wedding Crashers as a far more inferior version of Owen Wilson.  When the dance floor opened, I instinctively went right for the flower girl as she was surely the key to this blond beauties heart.  As a matter of fact, it worked to a t, and we soon began talking and dancing.  After a few drinks and a few self-admittedly raunchy jokes on my end, we went downstairs for a break in the action.  That is where the ultimate revelation came out.  When asked where I went to school, I told her I had just graduated from Penn two weeks ago.  I promptly returned the question and she replied, “I go to school in Maryland.”  My reply was, “oh in college park.”  This is where things fell apart to quote Chinue Achebe if I may, and I may.

Her answer, “actually I’m in high school” most definitely caught me off guard.  The subsequent line of questioning was even more disturbing as I found out she was still a sophomore in high school.  At 16 and still very much a forbidden fruit, I did what was expected of me by New York State Law, I quickly and quietly made my way back upstairs to the party, never to speak of the event as long as I live.

Oops must have broken that self promise.