Tonight my friend Andrea got married. It was a special wedding to me, not only because she's the only other Andrea (that means pronounced On-dreee-ah) I know, but she's one of the most creative, cool people I've ever met. Oh yeah, and the wedding was three blocks from my house, which totally justifies all those martinis I just drank.
Like every event that's happened on a weekend for the past four years, I showed up by myself. At first I was worried. In the world I live in, you don't go to a wedding alone unless you're single, it's a family wedding you can't get out of, you've just been dumped and every single guy you know or could reasonably call is busy. In this case, it actually turned out okay. My friend and neighbor Mike, roughly the age of my dad, asked me to dance. He let me know that I was "too much" and needed to slow it down. He's probably right. My friend Lori lent me her coat because I refuse to be warm if that means not wearing my new strapless dress, even if it is 45 degrees. And my friend Jennye knew when I kept petting her it was because she had a warm, wooly coat on, not because I was trying to put the moves on her. So I'd call it a success.