A Wedding Bromance?

Weddings are a ton of fun.  They are counter-productive to writing goals, but they are a ton of fun.  Especially weddings where there is an open bar.  These types of evenings are almost magical in nature, and this one was not the exception.

We met at the bar while our lovely ladies were talking over bacon wrapped scallops and the smell of lamb shank permeated the cocktail hour.  At first it was an innocent rum and diet coke, for me.  He had a scotch and water.  A subtle handshake.  A laugh.

Then:

"You went to Gainesville?"

"I'm a Gator too!"

I felt the magic brewing, but "she" wanted a soda, and so I went to fetch it.

Then the cocktail hour was over and people were taking their seats.  But wait!  Where is Patrick? The crowd closed in, I tried to find him but the hunger of the masses blocked me out and he was gone.

Damn it, I thought as I scanned my assigned table.   Not here.

I was unsure where he went, the lights were dim and my eyes hadn't adjusted yet.  There must have been a hundred people packed into the ball room.  She grabbed my hand and said something sweet.  Grumbling, I pulled away and said, "I'll be right back, I need a drink."

"Sally, I need a rum and diet, better make it a double".  I said.  Sally could tell I meant business and I think she poured a triple.  It was more like straight rum with a splash of diet coke.

"What is that? Rum?  Scotch and water for me."

The room froze.  I knew that voice.  "Patrick?"

"Hey Nick, weddings are lame aren't they?  I need a scotch."

"Sally, I need a scotch too, with water."

Sally clearly hated her job.   She took my rum back, muttered something, and poured the scotch.  You'd think I hadn't tipped her all night by the look, but would of thought I tipped her a Benjamin by the pure scotch.  Thanks Sally.

I made some awkward comment to Patrick about scotch putting hair on the chest, and he laughed.  So delightful.  But duty called, and we went back to our tables.

But then the dance floor called louder...

I saw him there, throwing a fishing hook into the crowd of lesser dancers, and his lady caught the hook in her mouth as her reeled her in.  At this point, my feet weren't moving, or propelling me forward, I was simply floating.  Jen followed, worried or irritated, I can't be sure.

"My god."  Patrick turned.  "Did you just throw the fishing hook?  I LOVE that dance.  I do the lasso myself."  Pointing at her I said, "Go out to the middle of the floor lets show Patrick the lasso."  She obliged.

"I have never seen the lasso before," he said.  "That was amazing!  Wanna go get some more scotch?"

And we drank some more scotch.  Then we had some scotch to chase it down.  Then we double-fisted some beers at last call at the open bar.  Then we made sure we met up at the club house for scotch afterward.  We left everyone and sat at the bar leaving a few very concerned and curious women in our wake.

"I just don't understand it.  What about us?" I heard one of them say.

It was the power of the bromance.  The stars aligned.  Magic trumped science.

I awoke with a start.  It was nine in the morning.  Had it been all a dream? Cruel gods.

But then I got it, a text so reassuring I almost put my 401k on it.  "Is it safe to assume you feel as terrible as I do today?"

He felt terrible!  This was amazing news!  I hadn't just dreamed him into life like my second grade girl friends....

And then he followed it up with this gem, "I would be lying to u if I said I didn't just throw up scotch and the chicken."  Glorious.

I got some breakfast with the family, all smiles.  But then it hit me.  He lives in Miami and I live in St.Petersburg.  Was I, gasp, a one night stand?  I sent him the question, palms sweaty, and waited.  Hours went by.  Maybe I should call him? That wouldn't be cool though.  I had to wait it out.

6:41pm: "Oh please...last night was too fantastic to be considered that."

Bam.  And now we're Facebook friends.