and it was a success. My "success" at weddings is measured solely by my degree of drunkenness.
At this particular wedding, I managed to achieve the perfect level of inebriation. I had consumed just enough vodka and sodas to thoroughly enjoy an elaborate celebration of two peoples' commitment to have sex exclusively with each other for eternity; but not so many vodka and sodas that I inadvertently suck-face with the least attractive male reveler at the party in front of the happy couple's elderly family members.
Sadly, the latter is my typical wedding M.O. And, no, said unsightly make out partner is never even my wedding date. I honestly have not taken a date to a wedding since 2004 . . . unless you count the 2005 wedding at which my long-term, live-in boyfriend broke up with me (I myself don't count it for obvious reasons). Yes, I did actually get dumped at a wedding. But don't cry for me Argentina. At least it wasn't my own wedding!
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