Elvis has left the Chapel

“I am going to quit my job, become a lawyer and do pro-bono work for the NRA.”

Which just shows what strange things you will hear at a wedding (thanks, Dave). By the way, Dave openly admits that he likes monogamy. He did this in front of his wife, which is always a smart place to admit such things!!

In the last two weeks I have married off two of my dearest friends. It was not with some degree of trepidation that I attended these events. Not because I disagree with each person's choice as spouse and life-partner, but rather because I am single.

Apparently, since my palm is about to turn red and start blinking, people feel obligated to make statements along the lines of, “Well, now we just need to find someone for you, eh?”

This presupposes several things, all of which I find irritating (wait, Rob irritated?!? What's this? What's this!?!). First, it supposes that in order to have a full and rounded life, you must be married. Second, it supposes that in some way that my own efforts at finding a companion are somehow lacking. Finally, it supposes that I WANT TO BE MARRIED RIGHT NOW!

Well, boys and girls, I don't.

That's not to say that if the right girl comes along, and she lets me date her, and lets me hold her hand in public, that perhaps, someday, some where, she might even concede to marry me. I don't know she would. All I really offer is a quirky sense of humor and the ability to add sarcasm to otherwise innocuous situations.

But she might.

And is she does, then she should take note now!

At each wedding I wore very heavy and warm clothing (note to self, DO NOT wear heavy and warm clothing in the SUMMER). I walked through the receiving lines (apparently this is a Utah concept and is not even know beyond the Zion Curtain) wherein I met people that I can only guess are amazing and truly interesting (they did make the “Receiving Line” cuts, which I didn't!!). However, I didn't get any phone numbers or emails, so I am at a loss as to who these people actually were.

But prior to all this was the amazing amount of prep-work that goes on behind the scenes, and up to and through the actual wedding and subsequent reception. I received interesting calls for assistance from getting tuxedo jackets, to carrying center-pieces, to taking photos (my thumb is more often photographed then a bride and groom's face!!) to sacrificing fermented grains to the gods with a bride-to-be. This last I was more then capable of aiding, as normally, giving Rob responsibility is a lot like using a cheese-grater for facial scrub: interesting at first, but mostly painful. (Eric & Win will note there's another, far more humorous version of this analogy.)

So what does that mean to me and my potential bride-to-be?

It means that if I am getting married (and that would be more properly IF) it will be at the Hunk-a-hunk 'O Burnin' Love Chapel in Las Vegas. Originally, God's messenger on Earth, Elvis Presley (or one of his appointed), would have conducted this. But apparently, in an effort to remove much of the cheese of Las Vegas, Elvis can no longer marry people, but he can stand as a witness.

That's not to say that there won't be a reception.

There will be. A big one. A BIG ONE!! But there will be no heavy and warm clothing, no receiving line, and no cake.

Ok, wait . . . there will be cake. There HAS to be cake.

And we can dance, if we want to. We can leave your friends behind.

The way I have it figured (and since my accounting class I now have two columns of figures that don't add up instead of just one!!), the whole point behind a wedding is to celebrate publicly the mutual exchange of loves vows between two people. I won't go into the anthropological reasons that this is a good thing (and there's a whole place full of 'em), but rather just revel that a marriage is a triumph for romance (or should be).

So, in my quirky and sarcastic world, the reception should be bigger and brighter then the wedding, which should be small, intimate, and above all abridged in a Memphis accent. Being in Vegas, this shouldn't be a problem. The reception should include casual dress, mass quantities of food and alcohol. Sound like anywhere you know if in the State of Nevada? No hints, but it rhymes with “beg us” and “lost wages”.

So, as a man I am putting my foot down on this wedding business.

It's Vegas or nothing.

Though nothing may equate to, “Whatever you want dear.” And I am working on the smile when I say that.

It's already quite convincing.