The tale of the bouquet

Above: the reception hall for Justin and Lisa's wedding, Rochester Convention Center

So, at the wedding last weekend, there was, as usual, the bouquet toss. Normally, I'm a fan of this, since I like to watch people act crazy over a few flowers, and, at this point, I need some luck in the relationship department. 

So my cousin Cheryl shooes me and her two daughter, Jackie (16) and Gillian (12) over to the dance floor. We get there right as the bouquet is being tossed, and it lands at Jackie's feet. She manages to pick it up before one of the more--energetic--wedding guests tries to take it from her. 

Jackie looks at the small bouquet of peach roses. "What do I do with it?" She asks me. 

"Nothing. It means that you're going to get married next."

A look of horror crossed her face and she thrust the flowers at me. "No way! I don't want to get married!"

(When I told her parents this, they were very excited.)

I took the bouquet and walked back to the table, thinking I was done.

Oh no. 

Not even close. 

Apparently I am the only person on the planet who didn't know that the woman who caught the bouquet had the bride's garter put on her--by the guy who caught it. 

Um, huh. 

So I head back toward the dance floor. The guy who caught it (I didn't get his name), looked about my age, and looked Italian--dark hair, dark eyes. He was also a bit of a ham (like my brother). So he takes my hands and sits me down in a chair on the dance floor. 

"I'm glad my father isn't watching this," I told him. He winked. 

The garter went about three inches above my left knee, safely above my hemline. It felt rather odd. He was there with a date, so that was the end of our "relationship", but, apparently, he thought I was younger than I really was (according to my aunt). 

I was older than the bride by six months. 

I wasn't quite sure how to take that. I guess it's good to look younger than my age. I am starting to appreciate it. But still!