Thirty Day LA

It took eight years, but I finally discovered the balls to ask her on a date. I took a day off work so I could drive up for the wedding. One of my other duties for the wedding was to be a groomsman. I had always imagined myself growing old as a bachelor, so I thought it would be, at the most, fun to participate this closely in a marriage ceremony, though not very relevant to my life. The ceremony was held in a huge modern church with sweeping vaulted ceilings, automatic retractable window shades, and space for all 400 of my sister's wedding guests, including a small orchestra as well as a band.

Standing up there with all the other groomsmen, we waited for my sister to make her grand entrance. Then, as the orchestra started played the wedding song and the vibrato of the violas echoed through the large chamber, it hit me. My kid sister was getting married. I saw my dad leading my sister down the aisle, and I smiled, something I don’t do that often. I felt excited and proud. She looked beautiful in her wedding gown. I looked over at my mom - she was smiling quite foolishly as well. Then the ceremony began. The pastor gave his speech about how marriage is like a marathon, how it starts off exciting, then becomes torture, but the important part is the finish. He said that while marriage takes a lot of work, the committment to building a family together is one of the most important and fulfilling journeys we can take. The groom gave his vows, then it was my sister’s turn. The band leader gave her a guitar. The audience, as well as the groomsmen including myself, made hushed noises of surprise. Words appeared on the big screens above us. My sister had written her vows as a song. She began strumming the guitar and singing, her voice quavering because she was crying. One of the verses in her song that described the groom as her most precious gift in all the world really got to me. At one of the most moving moments of the ceremony, I got all bitter and fatalistic. I thought to myself, no one will ever say anything like that to me. Then she sang about how she’d do anything for him, even give up her family name to take his. I stopped. I looked back and forth between the screen and my dad. He was caught up in the moment and I’m sure he didn’t mind, but I did. It was at that point that I realized that it was my responsibility to carry on the family name. Not a great feeling, especially considering my sentiments immediately preceding that part of the song. When my sister finished her song, the entire chamber erupted with applause. As the bride and groom walked back down the aisle as man and wife, the orchestra finished with the closing song from Star Wars: A New Hope. A dorky, cheesy, and incredibly beautiful wedding ceremony, all wrapped up into one.

I haven’t talked much about my sister, but that’s because I don’t really like talking about her. She’s damn near perfect. Most of my guy friends agree that if they ever have a daughter, they want her to be exactly like my sister. She is smart, driven, and talented in all the ways that I am not. I remember those occasions when we were growing up, as I was divining the secrets of life, I’d run home and share those secrets with my sister, and she would simply reply, “Yeah, I know that already.” She once told my mom that I am smarter than her, but I give up way too easily, which is why I’m at where I’m at and she’s got everything together. I know I wouldn’t be able to lead the kind of perfect life my sister does - I’d be rather disgusted at myself; but at the same time, I’m very proud of her in every way possible.

As the guests flooded outside for some snacks and drinks, I said hi to family friends I haven't seen for years for a short while. Then I had to go pick up my date.

Now I'm going to reveal how lame I truly am. One time when my date had come to LA to visit, I had shown her the new used car I had just bought and she said how it was really nice. Then a few weeks before the wedding, I was talking to her online and I told her she could drive us in the new car she had just bought, but then she commented about how my car was really nice and we should go in that. So the day before the rehearsal, after several phone calls from the friend I was supposed to carpool with and my parents who were concerned that I wouldn’t be able to drive long distance so soon after having jaw surgery, I decided to drive myself, for the express purpose of picking up my date and impressing her with my nice car. Truly, truly lame.

I pulled up to her house, my car freshly washed and waxed (which only happens about once a decade), and called her to come down. She came out wearing a long black and white print dress that I remembered seeing her wear to another wedding in some of her online pictures. She looked nice, regardless. Her mom and her brother’s fiancée came out too, and I said hi to them. I had met her mom before and we got along really well. Then my date told her brother’s fiancée that I was like a little brother to her.

A little brother. Fucking perfect.

After exchanging a few pleasantries with her family, we drove off to the wedding reception. I told her about how she missed a nice ceremony and described to her my sister’s plans for the future. We talked about our own futures as well, a topic I seem to always discuss while driving to go on a date. She said she usually does things in her life so that other people are happy. I thought about how I do things mostly for myself but usually end up unhappy. Either way, we both felt unfulfilled. However, after almost nine years of friendship, I finally felt like I was being myself with her while driving over to the reception. Every time I looked over at her during our conversation, our eyes met. I felt really comfortable with her, and I wondered why I had never felt that way before.

We walked inside the massive banquet hall and took a seat near the front. Another friend handed me a microphone, and that’s when I started to get nervous. I scanned the crowd and realized that I was in a dire predicament. I had originally planned to tell some really raunchy jokes, but in a crowd of mostly hardcore Christians and old people, I realized it probably wouldn’t fly. Luckily my sister had planned out every minute of the reception, so all I had to do was improvise and fill in the blanks. My sister had opted against having an open bar at the reception, so I was in desperate need of alcohol. Thankfully, the backup MC grabbed one of the waiters and told him to bring us a couple Heinekens. What a life saver.

The reception started off inauspiciously. My first duty as MC was to introduce my side of the family. Now I had no idea that you’re just supposed to announce people and have them stand up. The first thing I did was yell, “Dad! Where are you Dad, get up here! Dad!” Not realizing that he was standing right behind me. I made him stand up in front of the stage, and then I announced the rest of my family and made them get up on stage too. I told my first joke of the night, directed at the bride: “We’re all proud of you for renouncing the family name.” That got a laugh from the crowd and my mom yelled my name quite reproachfully, so I knew it was a good sign.

The rest of the night I split time between hanging out with my date, figuring out the timing of the rest of the events, making jokes on the mic, and trying to introduce my childhood friend to single girls (there were all of 3 there out of at least 50 girls our age). Whenever I ran off, my date would talk with people at the table and she didn’t seem awkward or bored at all. At one point I went off on a long-winded speech about how my sister stole all the good genes in the family before announcing that my dad would sing a special song for my sister. He had practiced it for 3 months, and he might have cracked a little bit at the end, but it was really solid. Then my sister sang a duet with my dad to reinforce my point. I’ve never seen my mom so excited before in my life, she was laughing and cheering and clapping her heart out. Throughout the night, friends of the newlyweds would come up to me and say how much they were enjoying my emceeing, which got me feeling pretty good. Then we played the slideshow, which I was rather proud of, and then there was some half-hearted karaoke and some dancing.

Now one of the things I discovered much later after becoming friends with my date is that she is an awesome dancer. I am passable when I’m drunk. That night I wasn’t anywhere close to being drunk, and so I probably danced like shit. There was some guy there acting like a loud drunken asshole and he danced with my date, seeming to take a keen interest in her, but I ignored it. Turns out she knew him through her high school friend. So when my emceeing duties were finally over, I spent some time trying to get into a picture with my sister, but she was busy with all her friends who were leaving. While I was waiting, I sat with my date at the table, just relaxing and talking. I was facing one way and she was facing the other and our legs were touching the whole time. It felt really intimate, despite the thought that she clearly had no interest in me, the little brother. I figured that any other date to my sister’s wedding where I was the MC and socializing with everyone and getting props for my jokes left and right would have fallen in love with me on the spot. Not my date. I don’t know if she’d ever recognize me for anything other than the brash, bitter, insecure kid I was in college. But for some reason, it didn’t matter to me. I wouldn’t have wanted to go to my sister’s wedding with anyone else.

When I was finally able to squeeze in some time with my sister, she told me that she was really happy with my emceeing. Meanwhile, the drunk dude who was dancing with my date tells her that he’s driving up to Berkeley and he can take her home. So when I go back to hanging out with my date, she tells me this and I don’t know what to say. First of all, I don’t want to act possessive, especially since she’s not even my girlfriend, and if she wanted to go with him then it was her choice. She said it was up to me, so I don’t have to drive too far. This got me flustered for a while. Then I ran around to say goodbye to a few more people. I said goodbye to the Best Man, a really genuine and nice guy who also had a great sense of humor and happened to be a genius. He was engaged to his very attractive fiancée and they were getting married in June. He told me how it was really great to meet me and piled on the compliments. He didn’t get to meet a chance to meet my date that evening, so I said I’d introduce her. Then he said something that almost messed me up for the rest of the night. He said, “She’s really lucky to have you.” I didn’t know how to respond. It was one of the nicest things someone’s ever said to me, and I didn’t really have it in me to tell him that we weren't together. When I introduced my date to him, I hoped he wouldn’t say anything like that to her, and luckily he didn’t.

After we said our goodbyes and promised to stay in touch, I noticed that my date was holding the drunk guy’s dress shirt in her hands. She said he went to the bathroom and gave it to her and told her not to leave and he’d take her home. That’s when I decided that I wasn’t going to be a fucking little bitch anymore. I told her that I’d drive her home and we’d wait and give the guy his shirt back. He comes back out in his wife beater and I tell him that I would be taking my date home. He looks at me for a moment, then shrugs like he’s saying whatever, and gives my date a hug. I tell him he can take a bottle of wine home, then I shake his hand and tell him it was nice to meet him. I was a perfect gentleman all night and I wasn’t going to ruin it over this guy. When I told my friends about him, they said I should have beat his ass or said something like “Why don’t you take your date home instead, oh wait you don’t have one.” I was caught off-guard, and it was something I don’t plan on allowing to happen again.

Anyway, I thought I had handled the situation as best I could, and I didn't think about it once the whole drive back. Instead, we talked the entire time. Mostly, I was listening, and I don’t remember ever us talking that much before. I might have still been on a high from the success of the reception, but I was really happy to be lost in conversation with her. When we eventually made it back to her house, she asked me if I wanted to go up. I thought about it for a split second and said, “Let me park my car.” So I followed her into her house and I heard her talking to her mom, who was still awake. I kind of expected it, so I wasn’t terribly disappointed, and it wasn't like I was expecting any other scenario. We talked about the wedding a little bit, and then she showed me around the house. We came back downstairs and I showed her mom the wedding itinerary, which she found fascinating. I said she could have it, maybe it would be useful in planning my date’s brother’s wedding. So my date walked me out, told me to give her a hug, and we chatted for a while as I put on my shoes. Then I said goodbye and told her to give me a call the next time she comes down to LA.

When I think about it, I don’t really know what to make of the date. The next day, one of my high school friends who was at the wedding asked me if there was anything going on between us. I said no, we’re just friends. She probably knew that I liked her, and maybe even had an inkling that I still actually like her to this day. I did my best to get out of the friend slash little brother zone, but I guess my approach wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

So while the date itself might not have exactly been a complete success, I had an amazing evening. The bittersweet feelings arising from the date were overshadowed by the happiness I felt in being a big part of my sister's beautiful wedding. I got the best reward I could ask for: seeing my sister smiling and laughing and enjoying her special night.