Weddings

Last Friday, I received a phone call from an old friend. This was a very good old friend. In fact, once upon a time, he was almost my best friend, beaten only by my authoritative father who always insisted that he’s my best friend. My own view and preference is not to have any ‘best’ friends. In my mind, I always reserved that position for the dog that I was going to buy when I grew up.

My friend’s name is Chris and he phoned to inform me that he was getting married the following day! He gave me a long sob story about what a good friend I have been and how he always liked me better than anyone else. I panicked. As he ranted on, I wondered if the idea of marriage made him confront his real feelings and gave him thoughts of eloping, with me! I was just about to shout ‘no, sorry, I can’t lead you on anymore. I am married, man’, when I heard him conclude his speech with the words ‘..and that’s why I want you to be my best man’.

This was more gratifying than finding out that he fancied me. He wanted me to be his BEST MAN! After years of telling myself that I was, I now had confirmation that I am. This was not going to merely be established by our idle chat. This was going to be witnessed by a crowed of wedding guests and approved by the state. I had no choice but to accept my destiny and feign modesty and surprise as I did so.

Chris told me that his wedding was going to be a simple and quite affair. The plan was to go to the registry office, get married, come back to his house and have a small party for about thirty carefully selected guests. He suggested that I spend the night in his place and then join him as we go to meet his new wife in the local town hall. The best man assented.


That evening, we were sat in his house, watching TV and talking about old times. It’s never my habit to hurry things up or ask nosey questions. This is why I didn’t ask him anything about his wife-to-be. I didn’t at all find it strange that he didn’t mention her or talk about how much he loved her. I reasoned that real men never descend to such pathetic levels of conversation. Besides, I was already busy arguing with him about the little surprise he had prepared for me as I arrived. I discovered that he bought me a new suit, shirt, tie and shoes! I was amazed that he knew my size but then I remembered that, earlier, when we were talking on the phone, he did ask if I put on weight and if I still had a 28” waist (my theory that he fancied me did not develop out of thin air, you see). Chris was never this organised, methodical or efficient. I asked him if he was up to no good but he silenced me with the very strong and convincing argument about the uniqueness and importance of marriage and good weddings.

I slept in the guest room and he slept on his empty matrimonial bed. Neither bed was, felt or looked that comfortable. The guest room bed is, by custom, meant to feel that way. Guests that sleep on comfortable beds tend to stay longer than intended. However, the bed that was going to help consummate Chris’s marriage should have at least been of a better quality and looked better than the shabby thing that I saw. I told him so and he informed me that he bought new bedcovers that he will put on after coming back from the registry office. He promised that the bedroom would look completely different when he’s finished with it.

Morning came and we were both up and ready for the day’s events. We got dressed up and went out to get us some breakfast. Chris’s brother joined us later in the local café. It was 9.00 am. We had another two hours to go before the real business of marriage was about to start. Chris suggested that we go for a walk round the local Shopping Centre! I told him that this would be a very bad idea but he didn’t listen. There we were, three ‘well dressed’ men, walking from shop to shop. Only when we have been approached by more than five people asking us for help with buying, choosing, explaining or wrapping some items, did Chris agree that this was a bad idea. We hurriedly left the Shopping Centre and decided to drive around town for a while. Chris laughingly suggested that we park the car at a safe distance from the Town Hall and observe people (including his wife-to-be) as they come and go. The guy was getting married today yet he was still childish enough to suggest that we play cops and robbers! We did.

We sat there watching the place and people for a good hour. Every once in a while, Chris would make a silly comment and look at his brother then they would both laugh. I didn’t get the jokes and told them to stop being childish. But that got them to laugh even harder. I already was used to Chris’s laugh so it didn’t irritate me that much. However, his brother had a strange sounding laugh. Though I didn’t get the jokes, I was still confident that his laugh was inconsistent with the quality of the joke. In fact, I don’t think there has been, had been, or will ever be a joke worthy of such a laugh. This was a laugh that took a long time to come out. Chris’s brother would open his mouth wide and pull an amazing succession of different faces without any sound coming out. He then would violently tremble and emit what sounds like a dozen prostitutes faking an orgasm. There was nothing real about that laugh, nothing at all.

It was twenty to eleven and time for us to make our way to the Town Hall. We had a wedding to go to! Chris started to panic and have second thoughts. His brother carried on laughing hysterically and looked like he was enjoying Chris’s doubts! I lost my temper and told them both to grow up. It’s a well-known fact that when I’m angry and in lecture mode, hearts melt, egos deflate and people listen. I told them that marriage was not a joke and that real men don’t change their minds at the last minute. I told them to be responsible and stand up to be counted. I added a few things about queen, country and other trivialities. In short, I got them nicely roused up and ready to marry the first women to say hello.

We made our way by foot to the Town Hall. As we did, I tried to develop a hunch, a limp and toyed with the idea of pretending to be one-eyed. Chris was the groom and we had to find a way that would make him look better than us. I finally decided the best way would be for us to walk a few steps behind him and let him be the first thing that catches the gaze of any potential observer. It worked like magic. As soon as we entered the building, a Brazilian-looking beauty, in lovely white wedding dress, let go of the arm of her male companion and came running at us. She presented us with a wonderful smile then gave Chris a great big hug! This woman was way out of Chris’s league. Surely he was not going to get married to this delectable Brazilian! On impulse, I decided to save his marriage and drag him, gently, away from her clutches. I quickly whispered in his ear that he has a wedding to go to and that it’s not fair on his wife-to-be is he’s caught with this Brazilian. He chuckled and told me that she was the woman he’s going to get married to. He introduced her as Helen, the love of his life. His brother had another of those orgasms.

The Wedding ceremony didn’t take long. I didn’t lose the ring. Chris didn’t do anything silly and his brother, fortunately for all present, was given no reason to laugh. Everyone got in their cars and we drove back to Chris’s house. Once there, we all had our photos taken with the bride and groom, and their friends and family. I particularly enjoyed the part where I hugged the bride, kissed the bride and was photographed standing behind the bride whilst holding her waist and smiling winningly at the camera.

After an hour of chatting, photograph taking and drinking, Chris called me to one side and asked me to accompany him outside. I thought he wanted to check if my ‘best man speech’ didn’t contain anything embarrassing. Just as I was getting myself ready to reject all his pleas and tell him that I was not going to change my speech, he asked me to get in the car! I asked him where was he going. He smiled and told me that he’ll tell me on the way! We drove off. As he drove, he was chuckling quietly to himself. I asked him what was the matter and where was he taking us but he kept on laughing. I swore at him. He stopped laughing and said, “Ok, ok, we’re going to Manchester”! MANCHESTER!
I asked, “ What about your wife?”
He replied, “She’s staying in London”
I said, “But you just married her!”
He said, “Yeah I know”
I said, “But you can’t leave the woman on her wedding day and go to Manchester”
He said, “ It’s ok, she doesn’t mind”

I asked him to stop the car and let me out. I’m not sure if I was angry because of my perception of what a good marriage should be or because I was missing a good party. A party usually awakens my inner child. Though I’ll admit that my inner child is a light sleeper anyway. Still parties are fun and when I’m deprived of such fun, my inner child throws a tantrum.

Chris reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. He tossed it over to me as he tried to park the car in a quite place. The envelope was full of money! I was stunned and confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. He laughed and told me that the marriage was not real and that he was paid to marry Helen and help get her permission to work and live in the country. He said that now she’s officially his wife, she might have better luck in gaining an indefinite leave to remain in the country. This opportunity cost her six thousand pounds. He offered me a thousand pounds for my part. I dramatically threw it back in his face and launched into a long and laborious rant about trust, marriage, friendship and many many other things. He patiently listened to every word I said and didn’t retaliate with any words of his own. I felt sorry for him and decided to stop. I then realised why he and his brother were laughing all day, I started another rant! He laughed and started driving us to Manchester.