DATE #17: The Wedding Date

If it's not already apparent by my crazy dating spree and reactions to many a man... I am a long far way off from having a wedding. And actually, possibly even further away from even wanting one. But who doesn't like attending them? I mean how can you not love watching the extreme displays of romantic sentiment: the mothers crying for their sons, the fathers tearful over their daughters, oooh how lovely that flower is in her hair and how handsome does he look in that tux? All those feelings poured out all over the place can quite possibly warm even the coldest of hearts. And then of course the open bar and the dancing help too, allowing you to suspend your disbelief and believe in happiness and love as you see the beautiful couple kiss in the sunlight and you think: "there is no way this marriage is ending in divorce."

I went to one of those beautiful, sentimental weddings this past weekend far up on Lake George at a summer camp that glows at sunset. I traveled up with some work buddies but no intended date, the bride and groom promised singles abound so I wanted to be open.

It was a perfect summer day, clear blue sky and sunny. We checked into our bunk cabins went swimming in the lake, then dressed for the "ceremony". The bar started serving before the ceremony and while standing around waiting for the couple to arrive, glass of wine in hand, I met a few friends of both the bride and groom. Among them a cute boy from Pittsburgh, and before the couple said "I Do", we were laughing up a storm and trading stories about the groom.

The couple exchanged vows in about 5 minutes in one of the most elegant, relaxed and unpretentious weddings I've ever witnessed. Then of course it was back to the bar and a picnic style dinner on the lake shore.

Mr. Pittsburgh and I were seated at adjoining picnic tables and bonded over the mediocre burgers and excellent mac and cheese. Later, we followed the newly married couple, their family and friends, over to the camp event hall for dancing, dessert and silly photos (oh, and more wine!). I managed to get all the boys I work with to dance with me (even though they were terrible) and eventually Mr. Pittsburgh himself asked me to dance - after our 3rd trip to the bar together and it was a hysterical good time.

The party wrapped up fairly early so the newly weds could hitch a boat to their nearby B&B and the guests staying at the camp headed to the bunks for a camp fire. Mr. Pittsburgh and I took the long way back to the campsite and just past the rock climbing wall he stole a kiss. We were suddenly fifteen and out past curfew.

We headed back to the bunks and changed out of our dancing shoes and into campfire clothes. We sat around the fire with 20 of the bride and grooms best 20-something friends, roasted marshmallows, made s'mores and shared silly camp stories over beer. Then Mr. Pittsburgh and I walked back to the lake. We sat on a bench at the water's edge and listened as some other wedding guests were reprimanded for jumping in the lake off the nearby docks and waking the neighbors.

As we kissed, I flashed back to my first kiss, 10 years and little more than 1 month ago on the shores of lake Michigan at summer film camp at Northwestern University. It was past curfew then too, and every sweet childish kiss felt like trouble. I thought for a moment, in 10 years I haven't emotionally evolved all that much I guess... and we never really do escape those traumatizing teen years when everything changes. And yet, in this moment, making out on the bench waiting for a camp counselor to catch us and send us back to the bunks - felt incredibly liberating and exhilarating.

Of course then I asked him if he knew my name and his hesitation made me laugh so hard the neighbors light went on and we feared for being caught. He said it started with a "g" and was too hard to pronounce. I figured it didn't matter anyways.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning we walked back to the bunks and found many a fellow guest still gathered round the embers of the fire but getting ready to head off to bed. Mr. Pittsburgh walked me to my cabin door and kissed me good night, then invited me to meet him for breakfast the next morning (about 5 hours later).

In the morning, I didn't rush to find him nor sit with him at breakfast. I was significantly less confident than the night before and looking at him across the breakfast buffet thought maybe he was just a cute boy and nothing more. But then, he put his arm around me at the breakfast table in front of all his friends and all my friends and I must have been plum in the face. I am a girl after all and well shit, it was adorable. (my normal self would barf at this!)

After brunch we went back to the lake, skipping the Bride vs. Groom family softball game (the Bride's team won). We swam, we played Marco Polo, sunbathed and watched my friend show off and almost drown himself diving headfirst into 2 feet of water...

The afternoon came too quickly and we all had to hit the road for hours of late Sunday driving back to our respective cities. We helped each other pack our camping gear, kissed goodbye and exchanged numbers. He said he'd come and visit NYC, I said there was no way in hell I was going to Pittsburgh. He said he'd call. He said he'd facebook me. And all of the normal "he said..." garbage girls get giddy over.

Sure, he hasn't done any of what "he said" which is fine because realistically, it's not like a summer wedding fling thing ever goes anywhere. But the girlie part of me wants him to facebook me just so I can say "denied" (I wouldn't want him to know about the blog, now would I?) And yet another girlie part of me still does want him to call... Shit, someone tell Taylor Swift I have her a new song.