The reception part can lead to a whole bundle of laughs because even though most people can get away with just walking in and walk out again, maybe steal a piece of cake in their hasty flight towards the nearest exit and the solitary safety of their car, I have the knack for running into people that are completely tactless and ask me awkward questions.
Sometimes, I swear that I have a sign on my forehead that says "I'd like my relationship status brought up as often as humanly possible during our conversation! Mmmkay, thanks!"
(You don't believe me? Read THIS.)
In anticipation of all of the uncomfortable things that other people are bound to say, I tend to spout off completely useless information and stumble over my words. Awkward situations like this are my own personal kryptonite. I am rendered graceless, blundering, bumbling, bungling and artless immediately. It's as if all of my social skills automatically recognize that I'm throughly dependent on them and decide to take a vacation all at once.
What tends to be the most cringe inducing is the luncheon. (For those of you non-Mormons, we don't usually do a rehearsal dinner the night before, just a luncheon between the ceremony and reception.) Especially if you only know one half of the happy couple and have never met a single member of their family.
What's worse is that I'm one of those people who is annoyingly on time when I shouldn't be and never on time when I really need to be. It's a disease. I'm going to a support group, don't judge.
In the case of the nuptials (can I just say that I'm adding that to the list of words that I hate? Right next to couple and ointment. I only used it because "wedding" is getting redundant) at which my presence was required this weekend, I walked into the luncheon and since I knew absolutely no one I hung out next to the door like some sort of stalker or potential thief that was casing the place before a heist. After what felt like the longest 20 minutes ever experienced by human kind, a friend from my mission showed up and then I had a partner in my uncomfortableness. We finally decided on seats near the back of the room, but not so far back that someone would feel compelled to come and make us feel welcome. A clever balancing act, but we pulled if off seamlessly, because when you're Mormon, 25 and still single, you've done this a few times. Anyway, we both high tailed it out of there as soon as we possibly could because our darling Holly was busy holding hands with her beloved and talking to people (exactly as she should have been).
I've decided that at the next wedding, I'm going to bring a tape recorder so that all of those special moments won't be lost due to post traumatic stress disorder and I can thus write a more complete account for your reading pleasure.
And points to anyone who can tell me what movie the title of this post comes from.