Wedding Smashers

A part of having been who I am my whole life is that I have behavioural habits.  Some of these are extremely difficult to control, especially when drinking.  Most are innocuous.  Though some, while seemingly innocuous are in fact quite the contrary.  The following is an example of which that leads to a series of rolling failures of which only really very few are mine.  Jack McBastard doesn’t play well with others at times, especially when women and alcohol are involved.

It begins at a wedding.  I love weddings, I like drinking, I like dancing, I enjoy company and laughter.  I also adore love hungry bridesmaids who have had a few too many sparkling rosés and find me irresistible.  I swear I’m not a predator, I just happen to do really well at weddings.  I look great in a suit and always have a very fine one for the occasion.  I arrive early with a gift and normally have a choice seat somewhere in the single digits.  Not out of earshot of the family, usually a position of reasonable respectability.  Such was the case at this particular wedding which was for a co-worker to a wealthy heiress to a regional construction mogul.  The groomsmen were comprised of current and former co-workers as well.

Here’s the curveball, normally I’m a bachelor.  This isn’t an issue but drinks are served at the ceremony itself.  That’s right, an Irish wedding.  A wealthy Irish wedding.  Jack is already bucking at the strains of his restraints.  Especially when he spots the groom’s sister.  Now, the groom was my host and only a few years older than myself.  His sister a few years younger than him and even fewer years older than me.  She was spectacular and closer to my age and place in life.  We didn’t strike up conversation until the reception just before dinner when I stepped out for a cigarette.  I was already on my way to being well lubricated but still very witty and genial.  There she was with the bride’s father and a few other of her senior family members when I slid over and lit Pam’s cigarette.  I immediately commanded a light but interesting conversation for all present and departed a touch early and confident that I had left everyone intrigued enough to pursue me further for more.  This was confirmed later in at least Pam when I found myself once again smoking only to see her excuse herself from her company to come and join me for conversation.  we spoke for a time before I returned to get drinks for myself and my girlfriend.  Dinner had come and gone and I was drunk by this point and my bachelor habits started to return.  Though despite being drunk I was holding together nicely.  I was walking fine, speaking without slurring nor raising my voice.  I’m sure I exhibited some signs, though for the most part I was alright.  Truthfully I was bombed.  I still remember the details though.  I stopped to make casual conversation with a few groups of people including a few bridesmaids who I had no interest in.  I gave them compliments because that is what you do.  It’s polite.  The bachelor, Jack McBastard, even though he is a self-serving prick knows that if you want to do well with women you keep the herd happy.  Make them all feel appreciated.

I speak to Pam again.  This time I casually mention that I have a girlfriend.  This disturbs her visibly.  It didn’t occur to me that she was very seriously flirting with me the whole time… and I was right back!  Did I mention that I had been leaving my girlfriend unattended in the banquet hall while I stepped out for cigarettes to apparently flirt with Pam?  No, I don’t think I did.  Well, I had been for the last two hours without even realizing it.  The worst is yet to come.  This jars me a little and I finally notice how drunk I am, I have two whole pints so I return to my seat and tell my girlfriend that she better help me drink at least one because I am just simply not going to be able to manage both (truthfully I could have I just don’t think that I should at this point because I made a huge mistake and felt embarrassed enough).  I go out for another cigarette hoping to apologize to Pam, no go.  I don’t see her.

On the way back though I see her on the dance floor by the bar.  I go over and try to talk I apologize and I don’t know why but, I guess because I feel bad, I kiss her on the cheek.  Then I walk back and sit down with my girlfriend.  I tell her that we may be leaving soon I just need to go to the restroom.  Upon completing this I step out only to immediately find the maid of honour right in my face.  She calls me a piece of shit and tells me that I have been trying to pick up every woman in the place.  I ask her what women.  She says that they came to her complaining, I tell her to take me to them I would love for them to tell me directly what I said to make them think that I was interested in them.  Because as we know I have had no interest in anyone yet tonight other than the unusual bachelor habit of flirting with a woman without even realizing it.  She then tells me (as though dodging a bullet) but wait, your girlfriend is crying outside.  Now why isn’t that the first thing that you would have told me?  That seems like a far more important thing to me, I need to go see her.  Yeah you better, says she…  Okay crazy bitch, go find your story telling friends who need to find really attractive men and pretend that those men are then interested in them to make themselves feel like complete and worthy women.  When you find them why don’t you all get in a van and drive it into a river while it’s on fire so you can drown WHILE burning to death.  Thanks.

I go outside to find one of the guys who I used to work with standing between my girlfriend and myself.  He blocks me from talking to her.  He blames me for causing her for being upset.  I tell her I am taking her home.  He tells me that I don’t get to talk to my own girlfriend.  Then before I know what is happening I catch a punch square in the face.  My upper tooth punctures my lower lip.  It goes clean through to the outside.  I leave my feet and land in a pile of patio furniture.  Wearing a $1400 hugo boss suit.  I’m thrilled.  Fortunately because of this last fact I have the presence of mind to not lash back.  I stand up.  I turn and I leave.  I drive, drunk as fuck to the hospital.  I text my girlfriend because she has some of my possessions and I want them back as soon as possible.  I don’t really care what she does and I won’t call the police so long as she gives me my stuff back.  Finally she asks me where I am, I’m not quite sure why she cares…

She finally demands to meet me.  I tell her I am at the hospital.  She meets me and I am NOT in a good mood.  What happened was that the guys who I used to work with manipulated her into believing I was cheating on her.  She saw the kiss on the cheek and thought that it was for real.  They simply generated controversy and conflict for sport and violence because they literally had nothing going for them and the only available woman spent the whole night flirting with me.  They needed a bullshit reason to send me to the hospital for stitches.  Easy enough when your girlfriend is an insecure 22 year old and you have a really bad habit of behaving like a bachelor.

I’ve bounced from short lived relationship to sexual fling to short lived relationship and so on for my entire life.  I’ve always been on the prowl.  I honestly don’t know how to turn it off.  I don’t know if I ever will.

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