That girl at Rosie's wedding

So, if you are a long time reader of the blog (or have to endure me in your daily life), then you know that BF did not become BF until we got married.  Before that, when we were engaged, he was ‘the man that I date.’  Before we were engaged, he was ‘the man that I see.’  We joke that he will become my fiancee if we are ever separated and only ever become my husband if we divorce.  We’re planning on him staying my boyfriend, though.   

Anyway, eight years ago today, BF became BF.  There are several different stories that make me smile about that wedding, not the least of which is the one that became tagged as “That Girl at Rosie’s Wedding.”  We had a DJ at our wedding (what I wouldn’t have given for a live band, but we’re also nothing if not practical and so forking the money out for a band just wasn’t something we could stomach).  Anyway, we had given our DJ an explicit play list with instructions of what songs he was not to play under any circumstances (one song on that list?  Brickhouse.  Am I the only person that LOATHES that song?  Other songs on that list?  The Macarena and the Electric Slide.  Though I LOVE to dance, group dance is not my thing). 

Anyway, I should have known we were going to be in trouble when the DJ asked me– in all seriousness– if he could play “Who Let the Dogs Out?” when he introduced the bridal party.  “No,” I said, unamused.  “But I did it last week for a couple that went to the University of Georgia, and it was a hit,” he argued.  “Because their mascot is the bulldogs, sir,” I explained.  “Do you have a song about Wildcats (our college mascot) or Vikings (our high school mascot– even though we went to high school in separate states, our schools had the same mascot)?”  That stumped him.   “Alright, then, no mascot songs for our introduction and no games.  Just following the playlist is great.”  Seriously, I wasn’t bridezilla.  But I have an opinion about music and games at weddings.  And games at my own wedding?  So not my thing.  Just to be safe, I had the men’s a Cappella group at the college where I worked come down and perform for the cocktail hour and for our introduction (they went with For the Longest Time by Billy Joel for the introduction).      

Needless to say, the DJ played the Macarena and The Electric Slide and Brickhouse.  And then he started rounding people up for games (I want you to know I said nothing.  I thought things.  But I said nothing.).  Finally, at some point, the guests gathered in a circle around the dance floor and people would run into the middle and do their thing.  One of my brother’s good friends– and also a good friend of mine– ran out into the middle and slide across the marble floor to the other side.  Quickly following him, another young woman did the worm into the middle of the circle.  Except she had on a knee-length, A-line wrap dress and hose and that wrap dress inched its way up, revealing her entire backside.  The crowd erupted.  She hopped up, tugged down her dress, and ran off.  Standing beside me, my brother and our good friend started high fiving each other for how everyone was cheering for our friend’s slide.  “They’re not cheering for you,” another friend interjected.  “They’re cheering for the girl who showed her underwear.”  That, ladies and gentleman, is the young woman who became ‘that girl at Rosie’s wedding.’  The funny thing that I have noticed since our wedding is that there is almost always either a ‘That guy’ or a ‘That girl’ at every wedding.  Did you have a ‘that’ girl or guy at your wedding?  Have you been that girl or guy?  Come on, spill it– don’t be shy, those stories are instant classics, and we’re really friendly here.    

And, now back to that day, eight years ago.  There were plenty of things that made me smile that day (the breakdancing way up there on the list) but the number one thing was BF becoming BF.  Happy 8 years, BF.  You’re my favorite.