Written in October 2006
A single gal’s least favorite thing to do on a Saturday is go to a wedding. I received a wedding invitation to my high school friends wedding, oh joy. I was definitely not looking forward to going. Luckily, a large group of my girl friends were also single and going alone. Still the idea of going to a wedding when single, was not something my idea of a wonderful Saturday. I convinced my friend to go dress shopping with me, if I was going to go to this wedding, I wanted to looked good. I bought a somewhat scandalous green halter dress that paired nicely with spikey gold heels. Single gals need to have fun too, and thus began mission makeout.
On the day of the wedding I was running terribly late. I wanted my hair to be just right, I needed to perfumed, but not too much, gum for good breath and a toothbrush too! I just kept forgetting things. When I finally got in my car, I was running VERY late. I was about a half mile from the church when a freight train pulled right in front of my car. So, basically, I ran in to the church late. My friend the bride was just about to walk down the aisle as I ran to get a seat next to my other friends. As I sat down, I was blissfully unaware of all the glares I was getting for my tardiness!
The ceremony was beautiful. It was rather surreal. I met the bride before our first day of high school at volleyball camp. I saw the groom go through a rough glasses phase between freshman and junior year. They were getting married. I was sitting watching my two friends stand up in front of me and pledge their eternal love. I couldn’t believe that I was hearing these two young people do something so adult. All I wanted to do in my skanky outfit was makeout with an eligible bachelor, and my friends were pledging to makeout with only one person forever! Shocking!
At about the homily, my friend in a whisper pointed out the usher sitting two pews ahead of me. He was tall, and from the back looked fantastic in a tux, hmmm, he would do just fine. I did feel a bit awkward checking out a man in the House of God, but God would want me to makeout right, it’s just good clean fun? The wedding ended and that long and terrible time in between weddings and receptions began. Four of my friends and I were sharing a hotel room near the reception site, so we filled that time with several drinks and signing wedding cards. The more we drank, the funnier we thought we were.
With our DD already appointed we piled into a car headed over as the reception began. Our table was half my gals, and half of the bride’s work friends, uh oh. My friends and I have a tendency to take over everything, and that night proved to be no exception. The wine began passed at my friends glasses and somehow never made it to the work friends. A waiter brought a second carafe and sadly, that too never made it to the work friends. The wedding was turning out to be more fun than I expected.
After two wine carafes my friends and I were dancing queens. Mission Makeout went into full swing on the dancefloor. There, I took my slinky green dress and spiky heels and shook it like a white girl. I scanned the dance floor for the hot usher and spotted another gentleman, a second option for mission makeout. I would need to weigh my options carefully, flirt appropriately, and shake it in both their directions. I spotted hot usher approaching the bar, dropped my drink on the nearest table and headed off to order another one.
I suavely ordered another vodka and something and smiled through the tipsy haze at the hot usher. Hot usher smiled back at me, sweet, I was in. We struck up some lame conversation about something that I cannot remember. He then introduced himself as the usher from the wedding next door. What? I think he was trying to make some sort of a joke or he was trying to pull my leg. I clearly had been checking him out at the church, so what was he talking about? In the course of mission makeout, I of course, played along. I even introduced him to one of my gals as the usher from another wedding. When it was just about to get weird, he laughed and admitted he knew the groom from college. Thank goodness! If he had kept that charade up much longer, I would have had to move on to option two. Phase one of mission makeout was complete, begin phase two.
Phase two posed a bit of an issue as hot usher didn’t dance. I used my feminine wiles and dragged him on the dance floor. It worked for about two songs and then hot usher pulled a Houdidni and disappeared. Bummed by the missing hot usher, I left the reception with my gals. We had found out everyone was heading to the hotel bar, fingers croseed that all my efforts weren’t for naught.
Sitting at the bar, hot usher was drinking Jack on the rocks… Hoorrah! I sat flirtatiously next to him leaning just forward enough for him to catch my scent of perfume mixed with vodka, oh yea and a classy view of my rack. I was incourageable, my mission was the only thing on my tipsy brain. While I was thinking of how suave and flirty I was, my friends later had the pleasure of how informing me that I was acting like a fool. Embarrassment would have to be dealt with later, I was so close. Between sips of his jack straight he was sending the signals hard core, that or he was drunk, but that was not an option at the time. Phase two complete, Phase three, always had been a bit trickier.
In phase three, I needed to get hot usher alone. My first attempt failed, I loudly announced that I needed to go to the washroom, then tip toed out thinking that he would have followed. He did not. (I later realized that the bathroom pickup was not the hottest option that I could have gone with.) I got smarter in my second attempt, or so I thought, I said that I had forgotten my room key, and needed to head up stairs to get one from my friend. Take two, again no dice. In the time that I was aimlessly walking the halls getting my room “key” the bar had started to clear out. What was it going to take?
Finally, I just asked him if he wanted to walk me to my room, at least if I wasn’t going to makeout, I would have company on my second walk up to my hotel room. About ten steps outside of the bar, he threw me against the wall and kissed me as if I was the heroine in a harlequin romance novel and he the hero. It was hot. We kissed against the wall for several minutes. Hot usher really was a hot usher, he had these arms and shoulders that were strong and muscled. His hands found my back and pulled me against him. When we both came up for air, we headed up to his room. The connection was fuzzy because of the cocktails, but the heat could not be denied.
In his room, on the bed, hands were everywhere, his lips were all over me and things were moving quickly, until… knock knock, pound, pound… “Lemme im!” Hot usher’s buddy and bunkmate for the night, had come a knocking. Damn… we looked at each other, we weren’t finished, so we headed down to the hotel lobby. It was about two in the morning and the lobby was clear. We found a quiet couch around the corner from the lobby and continued to makeout. It was one of the hottest makeouts I had ever had. After two solid hours we kissed each other out. We were exhausted. Together, we dragged ourselves back up to my room, where I realized I actually didn’t have my key. We then tried his room, only to find out that he didn’t take the time mid makeout to grab a key. We tried pounding on his door, unfortunately, the booze induced coma roommate was not going to budge, back to my room. Three of my friends were sleeping none in a booze induced coma, someone had to wake up. We pounded, whispered, and pounded more. I was so tired, I sat on the floor, was I going to end up sleeping on the floor of a hotel? How dirty was I going to be that night?
Creak… the door opened and my annoyed sleepy friend glared at me and let the hot usher and I in. She threw us one pillow and one blanket and we were back on the hotel floor. GROSS! We madeout until we forgot the grossness of the situation and we fell asleep.
What felt like five minutes later, the drapes were thrown open. Ughh, the sun needed to go away. Morning had come to quickly and I had hot usher drool on my arm. I had just realized that the hot usher was still there, oh my gosh, what the hell was I supposed to do. I did what every girl does when trying to get rid of her previous nights makeout… I woke him up and kicked him out. I had hoped that I did not wake up my friends, but I was definitely not that lucky. On his way out, hot usher walked slowly and loudly. At the door he paused, and looked at me. What was he waiting for, I needed him to leave, the night was over? He then shocked me, and I am hard to shock. He asked me for my phone number. WHAT did he need that for? Oops, I actually said that part outloud. Reluctantly, I gave it to him, at least he would go away then. We had made out one night, what was he going to do with my number?
Oh well, he had it now, Mission makeout complete?