The Champ on Wedding Season
It’s May, the primetime of wedding season is here. For postgrads it’s the best time of year. That’s right, watching some poor schlub get hitched up to his high school sweetheart makes for a great weekend. You know the girl, the one that made him come home that one Thursday night and the pledge trainer found out, forcing you into the worst non-Hell Week hazing session of pledge semester? Yeah, she’s a bitch, but he’s a pledge brother, so you gladly attend the ceremony. Plus his family happens to be footing the massive bill for the open bar so your sloppy ass can try to nail his hot cousin.
So Tux-up boys, it’s wedding season. Christmas for your dick, and Hell
Week Month for your liver.
It’s a Reunion
The best part about weddings is it reunites your old circle of friends. The first wedding I went to after graduation featured one of my closest pledge brothers and a girl who happened to be in a “prominent” sorority. It may as well have been a Thursday night at the campus bar, which was awesome. Well, except for the parents and older guests. But what makes these weddings truly great is that unless you’re the luckiest man in the world, about 75% of your closest friends from college don’t live near you. The wedding reunites you all for another weekend, and generally you pick up right where you left off. Granted standard operating procedure at weddings is different than 2am in the frat basement, not that you won’t treat some poor bastard’s hotel room like that anyway. But you and your brothers will be able to make-do with copious amounts of hooch, drunken female wedding guests, and the hits of the 80’s, 90’s and today.
Next to shorts, suits are the best type of clothing. Grab that black tailored suit from the dry cleaner and rock the shit out of some Cole Haan wingtips. Plus, everyone likes a drunk guy, but everyone LOVES a drunk guy in a suit. Class the fuck out of the joint and throw on the light khaki suit to shame to competition into submission. Or murder everyone’s confidence and unleash the seersucker blazer and slacks. Your god-like aura will leave many-a-bridesmaid moist and wanting. There are few greater things than getting dressed up and shitfaced in a fancy hotel, do not hold back.
Everyone is Drunk
Uncle William was six months sober after his see-you-next-Tuesday wife left him for her tennis coach. Hand him that seven and seven and watch him turn into “Bill the Thrill,” the persona that made him a legend on your campus decades ago. The smokeshow cousin-of-the-bride might be 19, but you’ve seen how girls like her operate after hours. Slip her a drink or five and get that coat check closet makeout-fest in before sundown. Oh fuck, Aunt Sharon has taken a liking to your pledge son. Yeah she’s a milf to the tenth degree, but her husband manages the largest securities firm in Vermont and has probably killed someone…probably a pledge when he was at Dartmouth, and it was probably for much less than another man hitting on his wife. Hit the bar. Hit it hard. Yes you can afford most any drink, but free booze always tastes better, no matter how much you make.
You don’t have to get up early on Sunday and confess another week’s worth of sins to God with a raging hungover. Win-win.
I don’t have to tell you twice (or even once) that weddings are the prime place to meet single women. Go stag or go home. There is no point in taking a date to a wedding if you’re a single man. Be in peak condition. It’s a war out there. Mount up and get your girl.
A best man or groomsmen speech is the perfect time to tell your friend how much they mean to you. Well, that and completely shaming them in front of their family and friends with the story about how they stumbled around at 5am trying to find a hooker in Memphis, ending the speech with “You were looking for love that night and I’m so glad you were finally able to find it after all these years, buddy. Cheers.” Or you can go the safe route and plant a seed among all the bridesmaids in attendance with the story about how you rescued a puppy together or some other bullshit you made up 20 minutes before your speech.
Haha, just kidding. Love doesn’t exist.
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