As I've mentioned previously, in the Magic City last weekend, our pals Tony and Sarah got hitched. And then they got married. (Eh, it seemed funny when I typed it.) It was a lovely ceremony and I'm sure that they'll be happy together, especially since they lived together for two years before the actual wedding.
However, during the ceremony, Tony cried. I'm not talking about a few tears rolling down his cheeks or some sniffling, either: these were heaving sobs -- his shoulders were moving up and down. For a few seconds I was actually afraid that he was going to stop the ceremony and say, "I'm sorry but I don't want to get married after all! My bad!" But he was just all verklempt.
Men cry. This I know all too well. Get enough liquor in me and I'll burst into tears if certain songs come on the radio. In his defense, he warned me that he'd probably lose it at the altar, but I was surprised by how emotional Big T got. Then again, he is a dago. Regardless, he composed himself after a few minutes and everything went OK.
But while I was standing up there fulfilling my duties as a groomsman, I couldn't help but recall my own wedding to dear sweet Hibboo Thugg -- every time we stole a glance at each other, we would start giggling like monkeys. Retarded monkeys, at that. And much to everyone's chagrin, at the time I was infatuated with the phrase "so mote it be" and kept muttering it under my breath throughout the ceremony. (I later discovered the correct quote is "so mote be it," but I think my phrasing sounds better, so fuck you, Aleister Crowley.)
All of this made me wonder: Since Tony was crying at his wedding but I was acting up like a sixth grader, did that mean that he takes his vows more seriously than I take mine? I don't think so. It's just indicative of our personalities, for better or worse (no pun).
Congratulations, Tony and Sarah -- you're awesome motherfuckers and we love you.