Well, no, actually, they’re shite. I don’t know about you but I find it incredibly depressing to watch my friends growing up and away from me while actually celebrating the fact. However, for Maggie, my best friend forever, I made a special effort to smile and dance. I had to, really, since I was her bridesmaid, easily spotted across the most crowded room by my flouncy, frilly pink dress and incongruously short hair. Ugh. Of course, on the bright side, my post of honor did bring with it certain mitigating factors, namely an inexhaustible supply of free booze and a temporary claim on the best man, who was by anyone’s standards drop-dead gorgeous. Falling into a vacant chair to recover my breath and my drink after dancing a hectic Dashing White Sergeant, I followed his weaving progress across the dance floor with predatory eyes. Although apparently an accountant, like Maggie’s new husband, he had the distinct advantage of not looking like one. His long black hair curled around his neck, his fringe falling across his forehead with fetchingly boyish charm and in full Highland dress, he looked stunning.
