Walking Disaster

Dear Matching Mustaches,

You two are not hiding anything at all. To the groom, your first mistake was choosing your lover to be in your bridal party at all. To the best man, your first mistake was agreeing to do so.

The second big mistake was bursting into tears as soon as you had the microphone. I’m not saying men can’t cry or be emotional, but full-blown sobbing is too much.

Pull yourself together.

Claiming it’s okay to cry this much because [Groom] did the same at your wedding is not the save you think it is. Ten tear-stained minutes of poetically describing your meet-cute in a coffee shop and how living together “was the best time of your life” is a red flag. But deciding to refer to the groom as “Christlike”, and a “glowing man who lights up any room he walks into,” unironically, is one of those giant red inflatable tube men you see outside Spirit Halloween shops.

And to close out your twenty-minute speech (seventeen technically, but who’s counting?) with the phrase, “I love you and am so glad you can spend your life with someone who is just like me,” might be a bomb drop, not a mic drop. It’s not easy to make it through dinner and the other toasts after that.

Guys, Tom Sandoval is not someone to admire. You can’t parade an affair around in front of everyone and think no one will notice! Especially when some people, like me, had to stay sober to drive. I never thought I would have anything in common with Lala Kent, but here we are.

If the speech wasn’t enough, the best man’s presence with the couple while they cut their cake was just as damning. So much so, that some of us initially assumed it was a throuple situation until the dancing. Oh my god, that dancing.

Remember middle school dances? When the girls danced together while the boys awkwardly watched until the slow songs came on? Imagine that, but reversed and without slow songs. Add in Catholicism, repression, alcohol, and ties tied around foreheads while subtracting t-shirts, and it should give you an idea of the awkward half-clothed dry hump we were all unwilling witnesses to.

And honestly, guys, if you are going to throw away your poker face entirely, you might as well try for some rhythm. Just because you’re in the closet doesn’t mean you can’t feel the beat.

Only after their dancing did the people who still believe in true love know that something was wrong. My own brother, who did not believe me and had been lecturing me all night on how men can show love and emotion and stop being snarky they’re just good friends, had to concede when he saw them.

My other cousins and I all started slowly giving each other looks and admitting something was amiss, especially when the dancing was happening leading us to all collectively realize that, other than the first dance, the groom still had yet to dance with his new wife, but he could eagerly bump and grind on his best man.

Look, I’m not blaming these two for their sexual repression, I hold their parents and religion responsible for that. I am, however, blaming them for bringing my cousin, the poster child of naivete into this.

The bride is a lovely girl who dreams of being a cottage core wife and mother, basically Maria von Trapp, so please try not to ruin her life and yours by keeping everything in the dark and hidden away. As much as I will enjoy dining out on this story for years to come, this situation can be fixed much easier than you think.

Sincerely,

Your poor bride’s cousin who is uncomfortable feeling protective of her and would like to stop

P.S. I’ve never been more entertained while sober at a wedding, so thanks for that!