It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

Hi there, Mr here

This time of year means only 1 thing. Actually 2. Gay pride festivals and wedding season. Gay pride perhaps being the antithesis of the celebration of the nuclear family, but because it's hot and sunny and that, they seem to occur around the same time.

This year I didn't have a choice on which to attend as perhaps my nearest and dearest family member was finally tying the knot. After years of listening to her bitch, moan and cry over men I finally got to see her walk up the ailse and commit the rest of her life to the man of her dreams.

However proud this might make me feel I have always had a bit of a problem with attending weddings. I'm not sure if it's a bit of jealousy that I will never really be able to experience it myself, a general uncomfortable feeling I get when faced with such a grand public display of affection (bleurgh) or, most likely, just general boredom at having to stand around so much. Either way I'm just counting down the minutes until I can get my hands on the free booze.

Apart from the general awkward situations of elderly, kept-in-the-dark relatives asking me when I would be getting married I had to face other demeaning situations. The worst occurred during the photo taking bit, when it was demanded that a photo be taken of 'all siblings and their partners'. Of course, I am the only one without a partner. So I had to stand on the end, alone. I even got the sense the photographer would have preferred me not be in it as I was ruining the symmetry of the shot. My sister tried to make some joke about enlisting the services of one of the cute waiters to act as my partner but I think she was missing the point. I hadn't not brought a 'plus 1' to the wedding because I'm gay. It's because I'm just unloveable.

So in order to keep my morale up for the rest of the night I decided there was only one thing to do to see me through. Get drunk, turn on my own unique charm and make a bee-line for the older, fun-loving single females, who always love me.

It helped somewhat that I had pulled off an absolutely awesome (and wonderfully camp) tongue-in-cheek reading previously at the church and had been congratulated on my perfect comic timing since. However come the wrapping up of the ceremonies, and after the bride and groom had had their first dance, the attention of the guests were starting to draw towards their other halves in slow dances and not the bride's pissed little brother. So, in order to regain that attention I performed an absolutely spot-on 'Dirty Dancing Lift', courtesy of a couple of big strong men who paraded me around the dance floor like something out of the 'Material Girl' video. Needless to say it was very well received.

Of course I joke somewhat and realise that it was indeed the bride and groom's special day. However come 6am when literally everyone has gone to bed bar the gay younger brother, the single mum in her 30s, her teenage daughter and her honorary 'auntie', and we all have to crash in the same hotel room in order to save money, making prnak phone calls to reception while all the couples enjoy each other's compnay in their nice double rooms; I couldn't help but think that weddings just don't favour the single.