As we drove North on I-77 last month, headed to Charlotte for the hen party, my now sister-in-law said to me, “Mom thinks you should date The Vet.”
The Vet, a guy from her home town, went to college with us. And while I’ve known him for years, I’ve never known him well. “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” I asked her, flattered that her mother would think enough of me to say that.
“I don’t know. They’re always so off and on it’s hard to tell.”
In the weeks that followed since that party, I hadn’t thought more about that conversation.
Friday night, I stood at my brother’s rehearsal dinner talking to my brother’s best friend and her husband, one of the groomsmen, when she looked at me and said, “This might be incestuous, but I really think you and The Vet would be perfect together.”
“What?” I started, “Wait – first – how is that incestuous?” I asked her.
“Well in my head I was thinking of her and your sister-in-law as being brother and sister. But, yea, they’re not. So never mind that. They’ve just known each other their whole lives…”
“Okay. Second – doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” I continued.
“Does he? I don’t know…” she responded, looking around the room for him. He had come to the rehearsal dinner with his older sister, who was also a bridesmaid.
That night we all piled into our cars and headed to the only bar in town, an irish pub by the name of Murphy’s, bearing the slogan: “I’d rather have a beer at Murphy’s pub in Johnston, SC than a martini at a restaurant in your piss ant town.”
The lights flickered on until late in the night as the vodka flowed and the laughter weighed heavily amongst us all. When it came time to leave, my non-betrothed brother and I headed out with The Vet and his sister, said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.
When the morning came and the time of the bridal luncheon arrived, I sat in my designated seat at the nicest restaurant within 20 miles, famous for their shrimp and grits, and talked to the girls around me. “I am so tired,” The Vet’s sister began, “I stayed up until after 3.”
“What in the world were you doing!?” I asked her, knowing we’d left well before that and I had long been asleep in my hotel room by that time.
“Well, when we got home, The Vet wanted to stay up and talk.”
Sounding like the bright idea of one of my brothers or guy friends, I thought nothing more about it. The day continued with the buzz of daisies and dresses and flashes as the wedding neared us.
That evening, after the ceremony has passed us by and the first dance had wooed us all, after the beers had begun being consumed and the dance-offs had taken place, The Vet’s sister stood by my side. “I really want you to date my brother,” she said to me.
Turning to look at her, I’m not sure if my face registered shock or curiosity as I opened my mouth. “You’re kidding,” I said. “That is so weird! You’re the third person who has said that.”
“Really!?” she said, honest with surprise.
As I explained to her each of the other instances, her smile remained until I inquired, “But that’s his girlfriend. With him. Right!?”
Looking in their direction, she simply said, “Girlfriend. Not wife.”
“Remember when I told you earlier that we were up late talking?” she continued. “That’s what we were talking about. His girlfriend. And you.”
And after my dad had done his second appearance of the running man to Twist and Shout this wedding season, her own father stood beside her as she introduced me as, “The Vet’s future girlfriend.”
And I don’t think I found anything more interesting that night.
