Randolph Well, last week I was too shocked to actually write anything about this, but now it’s time. My so-called best friend, whom I’ve known and been friends with since 1991, is getting married next year August. The only reason it’s only next year is because his fiancee’s mother only said she could marry after she turns 21.
It gets better. I have always been considered as the best man for his wedding, and vice versa. Now, when I think “best man”, I think ringbearer, speaker, sometimes even master of ceremonies.
Well, in this wedding, I’ve been told to sit quietly at the reception with all the other “queens” (his words), and I’m not allowed to speak. Well, there’s that option, or I can sit at the main table with a group of narrow-minded fools, and I’m not allowed to speak. Personally, I’d love to cause trouble with the homophobes, but I have to think about my boyfriend, and the groom, etc.
What rubbish is that? I offered the job of best man to my dog yesterday. Now I just have to tell the groom.
One of my “queen” friends suggested I crash the party as Dame Edna, and make a speech regardless. It’s a fine idea, and I have almost an entire year to prepare … it’s definitely worth consideration.