Wedding Advice

I don’t much like going out for drinks in Los Angeles. Sure, there’s “atmosphere,” but when the price of two drinks is equivalent to a whole handle or twenty-four pack, it’s hard to justify the cost. On my trip to Kentucky, however, I found the bars to be amazing. First, they stay open until four a.m. Second, they are a short walk from one’s home (granted, that is probably not true for everyone, but it was true in my case, so perfect!) Third, even on weekend nights they sell beer for $1.25 and well drinks for $2.50, making drinking affordable. Fourth, you meet some interesting people.

I met an older woman, “Cindy,” at a bar when we both went to use the jukebox at the same time. We decided to collaborate on song choice (generally I just conceded to her preferences since our tastes didn’t align) and struck up a lengthy conversation from there. Her sister was the “designated driver” (a drunk one at that) and was ready to leave. Cindy, however wasn’t done drinking and listening to her songs yet. Her sister ran out of the bar in a huff. Cindy told me she would run out to stop her sister, but she received a public intoxication citation outside this bar recently, so she’d rather stay indoors. She explained that her sister was just moody because she was in the process of getting divorced, but that things would probably work out with her husband since no one else could stand to be with them and they’d realize that soon enough.

I thought Cindy was flirting with me, but after half an hour she mentioned her own husband. Speaking of which, as a married woman, she had some advice she wanted to give me to the bride before she walks down the aisle. It wasn’t advice so much as a drunken rant. She rambled about the problems she has with her husband, but how that doesn’t matter, because as long as they’re married, she will never be lonely. Cindy doesn’t love her husband, the only person she loves in this world is her six-year-old daughter, but she still needs a partner like a husband, even if they aren’t speaking to each other. The reason she married her husband was because she knows that he is the one person in the world that will never divorce her, never leave her. Cindy can be difficult sometimes, and she knows most people wouldn’t put up with that, but her husband is a pushover that will not leave, and that makes him the best partner. And that’s what I should tell my friends! Tell them to pick someone who will never leave, it doesn’t have to be about love, but it should be about commitment. She actually made me promise to tell Jocelyn and Ben this before the wedding. I promised, but I kept it to myself. I’m not even saying this woman is wrong entirely, but these are, at best, words of wisdom to be given at lower points in the marriage, not in the romantic early phases. How this would make their big day any more special is preposterous.

Finally, Cindy’s sister came back. “I thought you left!” “I could never leave my sister!” They kissed each other on the lips, each had one more drink “for the road,” and then offered me some marijuana, which I declined. She then took my phone number and immediately text messaged me the name of the chicken shack that she works at that she suggested I stop by to see her at before I left the state. I never did that, but it was a nice gesture, anyway. On her way out, Cindy handed one of my friends a huge nugget of weed without saying a word.

When we left for the night, my friend took the weed to give a family member of the wedding party who he knew would appreciate the drugs. From his drunken hazy memory, he remembers delivering the substance. When this exchange was discussed the next morning, the relative denied being given the drug, meaning that somewhere, someone had lost a large amount of drugs. There were two rules in the guesthouse we were staying at: no drinking and no smoking. The drinking rule was blatantly disregarded, but there was no reason not to just take any cigarettes (or other smoking devices) outside. There was an intense search for the weed, but it never turned up. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when the stuffy guesthouse owners find a lump of drugs in their house and flip out. I’d also love to be a fly on the wall in Cindy’s house, watching the dynamics of her perfectly loveless marriage in action. That woman is a riot.

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