Wedding bells

At my age, it has become a regular deal during the occasional weekend to get a summons in the form of a red card. Those not inducted into the odd mysteries of Chinese culture would not recognise the frilly, lightly-scented red card as a wedding card. Although I do have colleagues and friends who see the alarming red card as a card calling for payment ( since most weddings require some token sum... cash, please, no cheques ), I find that I actually enjoy wedding dinners. Sure we get the regular questions about our perpetual bachelorhood but it's a time where we invariably meet classmates and friends from our childhood, people whom we'd find abnormally hard otherwise to get together.

And as usual, I find myself seated at the table for single people. For some reason, the organizers regularly try to match together everyone left single in their acquiantance by placing them in close proximity for hours - no doubt hoping that rubbing against each other in such a close space, sparks of chemistry would fly. At the last wedding, I found myself one of the few bachelors faced with a squadron of singleton ladies. A terrifying sight, to be sure :) Luckily enough, in a scene with shades of gay erotica, I actually found the time to slip away with one of the cuter groomsmen to get him hopelessly drunk.

One of these red cards came my way today. And oddly enough, it has me paired with Graceless Grace on the table. For reasons unknown to me, they have seen fit to join us in unholy matrimony. What are the odds that some hotheaded hunk would ride in on a Harley and drag me out by the hair? Gay weddings might still be illegal in most places but it certainly wouldn't stop me from donning a spiffy suit and planning a fabulous party to celebrate my nuptials :)