I know that everyone says this, and no one really believes them, but I'm actually having fun being single- and I haven't even moved to London yet. It's only going to get better!
Yes, I know I've shed a few tears over my now single status, but the next time I feel the need to do so, I need to remember weeks like this one, to remind me how fun it can be.
On Sunday, I went to the wedding of not just one, but two of my very good friends. It was a lovely wedding, and I teared up a little bit, which I've never done at a wedding before, but then again, I've never known both the bride and the groom equally well before. I knew them both before they were a couple. I was so happy for both of them.
The wedding was easily the best I've ever been to. I saw lots of people I hadn't seen before, some unexpected, and there was lots and lots of dancing. As it turns out, I knew the Best Man. He played on my intramural softball team in college. It's been years, which led to a bit of an embarrassing situation when I first walked in. He was talking to my friend, The Other Violet when I walked over to them before the ceremony. "Hey Violet, it's great to see you again!," he said. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him, but still tried to hide my confusion with an enthusiastic hello and handshake. I couldn't fool him, though, and he quickly reintroduced himself, and I knew who he was immediately. I was a bit embarrassed, but I didn't even realize he and the groom were even friends, let enough best man-worthy friends since childhood, so I wasn't expecting to see him there. He had the benefit of the groom telling him I would be there, and my name was in the program, (I read a prayer; kind of a big deal and all), and I hadn't had a chance to look at the program yet.
During the reception, there was lots of wine and dancing and flirting with the Best Man. After the reception, we all congregated in a room at the hotel for an after-party, during which the Best Man suggested we go "get some air," so we went outside and sat next to the pool, chatting for a few hours. Until it started raining, at which point we had to go inside. There wasn't really anywhere we could go inside. He was sharing a room with two friends, as was I. All presumably passed out in bed. So, he walked me to my door and kissed me goodnight. Sorry I don't have a more salacious story of a drunken hook-up, but it was a very gentlemanly thing to do, no?
In the morning, I had to hit the road immediately for mine and Grayer's trip to The Great Outdoors. It just so happened that a tropical storm was working its way north as we left. The trip was about six and a half hours. It rained the entire time. Camping and hurricanes don't generally go well together. By the time we got there, we figured we had better upgrade to a cabin or something, or risk waking up in 3 inches of muddy water. Luckily, we were staying at an outdoorsy version of Disneyland, and they had plenty of "cabin tents" available for us. They were large army tents, already set up on a raised platform, covered by a tarp, and included two beds. Excellent.
Despite the upgrade, I couldn't sleep all night. First of all, it rained hard. Really, really hard, and the rain was really loud on the tarp roof. But I also couldn't sleep because I kept thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong. The road could wash out and strand us here, a mud slide or flash flood could sweep us away, some murdering rapist could come to our cabin tent and there isn't anyone close enough to hear us screaming over the rain. I think I kept waiting to hear dueling banjos, like in that movie I've never seen because I know it will scare the shit out of me.
It was still raining in the morning when we set out for white-water rafting. It turns out that a hurricane creates ideal conditions for rafting. The water level goes way up, making the river faster, the waves bigger, and a lot more fun. We were in a boat with 4 guys, 3 of them funny, and one of them very awkward. He said things like, "Here's a fun fact for everyone in the boat" and "I love beavers." But the other guys and our awesome guide made up for the awkwardness, and when our guide yelled at us to paddle "Faster! Harder! Faster! Harder!" they all yelled, "I'm so close! Almost there!" right back at her.
Our guide wasn't a hot bearded man, she was definitely a woman, but it didn't matter. She was awesome. And the guide of the other boat did happen to be a hot bearded man (the beard definitely seems to be a requirement of all rafting guides), and we hung out with him later that evening in the pub. He really wished we had been in his boat, but instead he was stuck with a seriously lame group made up of members of a 50-somethings, single adventurers club. He told us stories about how lame they were, and we told him stories of how awesome our boat was, and then beat him at ping pong. Sadly, along with the beard, heavy smoking is also apparently a requirement of rafting guides, and that really cuts down on the appeal. It was still fun to flirt with him, though, and he did tell us to please come back and request to be in his boat.
It's been a pretty good week for this single lady. And by this time next week, I'll be in London, and it will only get better. Stay tuned, this fall is going to be a doozy.
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