Vintage love

Yesterday, two of R and I's dear friends got married. Their reception was a 9-hour celebration at Mercury Hall. Did you catch that? Nine hours.

I know what you're thinking. Nine hours? Of small talk? ("So! You sell nutritional products from home in Florida? Wow.") The horror...!

However. This was truly one of the most special occasions I have ever been a part of.

This particular friend group - composed almost entirely of high school buddies - has the most tenacious staying power of any friend group I've ever seen. In my life, I have kept in touch with a lucky 3 people from high school. There are about 20-30 people in this group. (Not counting those of us that "married in" like me). And the best part? All of the guys in this group love to dance. Straight! All straight dudes, getting down on the dance floor. Tell me that's not out of the ordinary.

Anyway, you know when you're watching a rom-com about a wedding, and there's always that moment, right when the couple is exchanging vows, an overly-sentimental aunt wearing red cat-eye glasses sniffles loudly in church? Sobbing a little? That's me - I always cry at weddings. But yesterday, during this couples' first dance, I saw someone else cry. Who? I'm sworn to secrecy. I've seen this person cry exactly twice in my life. And I think I know why they did yesterday.

Watching this couple dance, it was like looking straight into the future, and seeing them hold each other when they're 80. Swaying in the kitchen. Looking straight into each other's eyes. Pots from that night's dinner soaking in the sink, a TV humming in the next room, and a radio - the kind with knobs, and a scratchy reception - tuned to Motown.

It was old-fashioned. It was simple. It was one of the most moving first dances I've ever seen.

May you have a gorgeous life together, Justin and Amanda.