Today is my cousin Bobby’s wedding day. He lives in Paris. And now he’s married to a blond, fun-loving Parisian dancer named Laurent. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen the pictures and heard the stories. Laurent’s boyish charm seems a good match for Bob. Rarely do I give my full stamp of approval to the lovers of my siblings. (Bobby is more like my bro than cuz). It takes a lifetime to know if a sibling’s partner has really done right by them – respected and supported them not just for the thrilling early years, but for the long haul. This pairing, however, is brimming with hope. A couple of beautiful young(ish) men with washboard abs and insatiable appetites for fun, hoping to alpine slide into domestic bliss – what could be better? They’d like to be dads someday, but for now they’re taking scuba lessons. I don’t know the details of the party due to my insane jealously over not being there (it was $1400 round trip). And I thought I’d die if I heard what was on the menu and who was on the guest list, let alone their vows. But the vows were probably downplayed. In France it’s more a domestic partnership than marriage due to the government’s need to prohibit same-sex couples from adopting children. Pigs. Imagine the horrors of homosexuals loving and supporting children they desperately want to raise. It’s as frightful as white American parents raising black American babies; people would stare or God forbid say something. I digress. Bob says most couples who apply for this partnership (PACS) are heterosexuals who don’t want to get married, but want legal protection and benefits. So, there you go.
It’s almost 7 AM their time, the day after. They’re either sleeping or very tired. Their flat is probably a mess. I bet there are empty glasses and crumpled napkins on every available surface. The night was probably filled with music, h’orsderves, outbursts of laughter, toasts, and kissing. Who the hell are these French people anyway??? They were probably all smoking cigarettes: ew! Bob says they’re mostly Laurent’s friends, but he lies. He has friends all over Europe. They invite him to ski the Swiss Alps and peruse the Greek Isles from private yachts. He weekends in Prague, Scotland, Germany. You name it – he’s been there. He’s that well-traveled and that popular. But no. It’s because he’s actually that cool (in spite of his potty mouth). Intelligent, talented, funny. A real catch. Lucky, lucky Laurent.
I can’t believe I missed the Big Day. xo