Garters galore!

I've gone to a lot of weddings. I've been a groomsman multiple times (and a groom twice before, but let's keep that hush-hush). For some reason, as soon as my collective group of friends graduated from college, they all decided to get hitched and start having babies. Immediately. At 26, the vast majority of my friends are all married. This is confusing, because shows like Friends, How I Met Your Mother, and basically every other sitcom all seem to indicate that people don't find true love until well into their 30s. Is it possible that television is lying to me?

Anyways, I've noticed that a higher power seems to be sending me a message at all these events. I have caught the garter at FOUR different weddings. That's a lot. And let me also stress that I'm not diving across crowded tables to catch these airborne metaphors of future commitment. They fly through the air and land gracefully in my hands. One of them even struck me in the face.

So at this most recent wedding, I again had the garter go soaring in a tidy arc and land with a little plop into my outstretched palm. I never even moved from my initial spot on the floor. The hand of fate, perhaps? Anyways, what typically happens in a reception at this point is that the man who catches the garter puts it on the leg of the woman who caught the bouquet. As ancient legend goes, the higher you place the garter, the better luck the bride and groom will have in their marriage. It's basically a transparent opportunity for men to feel up the leg of a pretty girl. I personally find this ritual abhorrent, but I am nothing if not a traditionalist. So with a heavy heart, I resigned myself to the unwanted task of sliding a garter up a bridesmaid's leg. Curses!

But then, to my surprise, the crowd dispersed and the band started up again. I was confused. And when I get confused, I cry easily. Fighting back the tears, I ran up to the bridesmaid. "What's the situation? Are we going to partake in this time-honored tradition in just a few minutes?" is the sentence that formed in my head. But what I really said was, "WHAT THE FUCK?! Why am I not touching you right now?!" My date glowered at me from a corner as she slipped a knife up her sleeve and began moving towards the bridesmaid; murderous intent glinting in her darkened eyes.

Fearing for the bridesmaid's life at the hands of my delightful (though occasionally violent) lady companion, I went up to the bride herself to get to the bottom of this mystery. Sheepishly, the bride informed me that they weren't doing the whole "slide the garter up the leg" bit. I was shocked and appalled. This is the conversation that followed:

Connor: So... I'm not going to put this on anyone?
Bride: No, we decided not to do that.
Connor (brief pause for mental processing): So, what should I do with this?
Bride: I don't know. Whatever you want.
Connor: What would I want with your garter?
Bride: Ummm... I don't know.
(Long awkward pause.)
Connor: So... do you want it back?
Bride: Uh. Ok.

My new gf/wedding date

So some of you may be aware that I'm going to a wedding this weekend. That is to say, anyone who's anyone will be at this wedding. What's that? You didn't get an invite?! Oh no! You must not be as popular as you once thought. I got an invitation and a "plus one", no big deal.

Anyways, I'm going to this kickass wedding BUT, in a shocking twist, I will not be going stag! I can almost hear a collective groan from all the single ladies and predatory cougars who will be attending the reception. Sorry, but I'm off the market. So who is this woman that managed to lasso this lone wolf? Here she is:

You may recognize her from some hit TV documentary series she says is on NBC. Her name is Pam. She keeps insisting that her "real name" is Jenna, but that's just a little joke we have between us. I know better. So Pam and I are a hot item now. You'll probably see us on the cover of the next People magazine. You might wonder why I have a beard in the picture above. That's because Pam likes me with lots of facial hair. She braids it with beads like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean.

And look at that face she has in the picture above. Sheer delight. She's so happy that she finally landed a real man and not that whiny Jim dude that works in her office. It's actually kind of a sore subject between us, so please don't bring him up at the wedding.

Anyways, THIS is the woman that I've been spending so much time with in the past 6 or 7 weeks. We've been going out in Chicago a lot, but I think we're going to buy an island in the Caribbean and move there. It's a secret island that only extremely beautiful people know about. So if you haven't heard about it, just look in the mirror and there's your answer as to why.

Upstaging the bride and groom? No big deal.

I'm going to a wedding in September. "Oh, Connor!" you might say. "Going stag to a wedding... again?!"

Haha. No, you cruel blog-stalking bitches. I'm not going stag. Not this time!! I'm going with a stone cold fox. I'm not even sure what her name is. She's some pretty young thing that I picked up at a local Greyhound bus station.

She came to the big city with a head full of smiles and a pocket full of dreams. But soon her luck ran out, so she started exotic dancing just to make ends meet. After a week long vodka bender, she woke up in the bus station where our fates intersected.

Sure, she's not exactly the type that you take home to momma, but whatever. I like her. Anyways, here's a picture of us. We're cute. Cuter than you, in any case. Burn!