The Irony Of It All

It began when he said he loved my singing after I said I was impressed with his writing, and that was 12 years ago; junior high. Quite a while for us to share a lot of water under our bridge. I’ve everything about him engraved in my head, and he’s figured me out like a Rubik’s cube a countless number of times.

“I can’t believe that this is the day,” he said to me this morning. And I couldn’t believe it either.

He was jittery and didn’t want to see anyone before tonight except me. Very untraditional. But I understood and if breaking all the rules means more time together, so be it. I held his hand as he held on to mine; I didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to let go. So we talked about small nothings and sweet nostalgia hand in hand in that quiet little room. About the last 12 years and how it got to this moment.

But time… nobody can stop time. Soon it was starting and we all got rushed into a great big room with everybody in it. He looked uncomfortable for a while because of the attention, but obviously very happy. And I am happy he’s happy.


After he said his vow, not a single dry eye was in the room. He wrote the most perfect thing… as how he always writes everything: perfect.

He was escorted by his best men out of the room to get changed. But just before they did go out through the door, he said to me in my ears, “I know you’re perfect for this,” and he thanked me for something I would never hesitate doing.

The cake was ushered in, and a while after it there he was, once again entering the room. My best friend. The love of my life. The dazzling, handsome man wearing that black tux I helped choose. He looked at me and I looked at him. For a while we smiled at each other with our eyes before he stepped on to the dance floor and reaches his hand out slow, waiting for another hand that would reach out for his. Was it mine?

I tremblingly did so from where I stood with one thousand lisps coming over my mouth that I couldn’t speak. This is it, and there he was.

It got very quiet. The band behind me didn’t make a sound. But someone whispered to me a forced volume, “what are you doing?! Go sing the song. It’s their first dance!”

And he’s still there, in the middle of the room. But in his hand was a hand that’s not mine.

And I did what I had to do: sing him a song for them to dance to.