My Third Wedding Will Be My Best Wedding

That’s the one where my friends won’t have any pretense that they’re to be on their best behaviour and will make ample use of the open bar. The one where speeches will be kept to a minimum, but asides in which people tell me “You’ve got yourself a good one this time” will border on excessive. It’s the first one that will have my nieces and nephews in attendance and with them a convenient excuse to serve a steam tray of Kraft Dinner with the chopped up hot dogs and everything. A table will get broken. The band will already know to throw in a Steely Dan song at their discretion. I’ll set off a car alarm during a particularly wild dance number. Cigars on the roof will just happen.

A nice moment will occur when I announce that I am taking my wife’s last name despite it probably being Asian. I’ll say to her: “Even if this wasn’t my third time, you’d still be the charm” and she’ll pretend that that’s deeper than it really is. A trunk of silly hats will be brought out. Someone’s dog will run loose, but it will be funny.

We’ll stay up late, but not as late as we do during crunch time. The hangover will feel nostalgic. We’ll have consulted a lunar calendar and scheduled the wedding during a full moon because those are nice to walk home under. When at least one departing guest facetiously asks “Same time next year?” it may or may not seem prescient. You really can’t predict something like that.