I am not a competitive person. I like to play games for the sake of playing a game (and having something to do). I don’t care if I win or lose. This lack of competitive edge is why I sucked so bad at field hockey. So, when I dove for the bouquet at Alia’s wedding, I think I shocked a lot of people, including myself.
I was a bridesmaid in three weddings last fall. At the first wedding, I found myself really wanting to catch the bouquet for some reason. I placed myself in what I thought was a great place and jumped with the other hopeful bouquet-catchers as the bride tossed. Alas, I was standing too close to the bride and the girl standing behind me was the lucky one. It ended up being OK, though, because the guy who caught the garter wasn’t my type.
Up next was Alia’s wedding and I was ready. I positioned myself farther back in the crowd and crouched into the perfect pouncing position. What I did not take into account was the low ceiling in the venue. The bouquet ricocheted off said ceiling and the girls in front of me dove for it- and I dove on top of them. This moment is really just a blur to me, but what I do remember happening is this: the girl who caught the bouquet started to run off the dance floor after she had the flowers. Unfortunately, my hand was caught in her hair and, as she started to run, I pulled my hand back. Hard. It must have hurt. I felt bad. Kind of. Then, Alia turned around and yelled at the bouquet winner, who I think was her cousin. I’m not sure why she yelled. Alia’s not sure why she yelled. It was all very chaotic.
I then skulked off the dance floor to wallow in my loss. Rachel came over to tell me that she’d never seen me act so aggressively in my entire life. I told her how I’d pulled the girl’s hair. We shared an evil laugh. Then, bouquet girl came over and handed me the flowers. After some back and forth with her (“You take them.” “But you caught it!” “No, really, take them.” “No, they’re yours.” “No, here.” “Why?” “I don’t want them.”) I had the bouquet. I was victorious. And I was treated to a very risque, Chippendale-esque routine by Alia’s cousin (other side of the family from the girl who’d caught the bouquet) who had caught the garter. The garter that I later wore OVER MY JEANS to the wedding after party. God, I’m so cool.
The bride at the third wedding did not throw a bouquet, so this scene was not repeated. That is something we can all be thankful for.
This incident has taught me that I do have a competitive spirit buried deep inside of me that only comes out when I’ve had wine. Also, I’m really awesome at weddings.
Song of the Day: Whatta Man by Salt-N-Pepa