You haven't met me, but if you did, you'd want to invite me to your wedding. Even if you've already had a wedding, or even if you're freshly divorced, I believe that upon spending just one hour with me, you'd be overtaken by the urge to call a clergyman, steal a tray of passed hors d'oeuvres, and kidnap a little blond girl to scatter flowers on the ground before you. Why do I know this? Because I attended no less than six weddings in three months this summer. Mathematically speaking, that is all the weddings.
And I have learned things about weddings, dear friends whose wedding I will one day attend. And know this: every wedding is beautiful. And every wedding has one bad element that need not be there; one awful detail that detracted from the wonder and joy of the occasion, like peeing in your space suit.
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