And by popular (okay, singular) demand...

A good friend and blog mentor (what exactly is that? blogentor? mentog?) aptly recognized here that blogs are like peep shows. You get to see a little story of someone else's life. However, while the writer often reveals thoughts and experiences that he or she may not tell people personally, they often retain the story in its entirety for themselves. Until I began this little endeavor, I don't think I recognized the truth behind that observation. Now I do.

After I posted this, my friend, S____, commented about the "Dentistry Wedding." Evidently, one reason was because he was able to break the not-so-subtle-first-letter code of names and determine about whom I was writing. He then asked me for more stories from that evening and, I must admit, there were plenty. Typically, I probably would resist the temptation to revisit an event for a number of reasons, but in this case I tend to agree with S___. There were some other experiences that are worth mentioning, such as:

-When I was walking from the ceremony to the elevator to go to the cocktail party, two dentists behind me began discussing how easy it was to fleece the system that I prosecute people for fleecing. After they both all-but-admitted to criminal activity, I turned around, introduced myself using my official title and suggested that they may want to discuss their fraudulent activities in a somewhat more private environment. They introduced themselves and Jon Smith and Joe Smith and promptly excused themselves. I was tempted to ask for their professional identification numbers, but that would have been so unsporting.

-At the cocktail party, S___ tried to convince me that, despite the copious amounts of alcohol that he had consumed, he "reeeaaalllyyy wuuzznn'tt thaaaat drrruunnkk" because his stupor was psychologically induced.

-S___ then attempted to further justify his inebriated state by pointing out how his wife, M____, had been "ssssooooo" drunk at B___ and J____'s wedding that she engaged in a tear-included chorus of That's What Friends Are For the weekend before. When I asked if M____ took the microphone to ensure that she was heard by all who attended the wedding, M____ assured me she had not. S____ later indicated that, it wouldn't have mattered because, microphone or not, everyone at the wedding saw M____'s drunken accompaniment of Dionne Warwick. Perhaps a call to Dionne and her Psychic Friends Network could have avoided that scene (I was tempted to provide a link, but just couldn't justify it to myself).

-When I indicated to S___ that his wife's previous drunken state did not explain his, S___ indicated that he only drinks like this when he is at a wedding. I then asked the all-important question, "And how many weddings have you been to lately?" S____'s response, "About one each week."

-I spent time on the dance floor with H___ and R____ who thoroughly impressed me with their ability to cut a rug on the dance floor. Recognizing my surprise, A___ told me I shouldn't be too impressed, because when H___ and R____ were engaged to be married, they took dance lessons so that people would have my exact reaction. Even with that caveat, I was still impressed.

-I was also impressed that one of my friends hit the dance floor, because I had never seen him do so. When he got onto the dance floor, I finally understood why.

-After refusing to take part in picking the bride up on a chair during the Hora for fear of dropping her, I watched as four other guys tried to pick her up, only to drop her. Who knew that a dentist would have such catlike reflexes in a wedding gown?

-Newlywed, J____, proposed to me because her new husband, B____, could not be found at the time. Apparently, she thought I was the best of what was available. In case you're wondering, the room was pretty much empty at that point.

-Witnessing (although, thankfully, not directly) the groom's brother taking a bubble bath in the post-wedding hospitality suite.

Of course, there were other events as well, but may of them would require a painfully detailed introduction about how many of my friends and I were politicos at our alma mater. Recognizing how excruciating non-politicos find that type of discussion, I'll just leave those stories out and spare you from a detailed rendition of university politics.

There was one other story that doesn't require such background information. One that I initially hesitated to write. But in considering exactly how to approach this post, I figured the catharsis would be worthwhile.

My friend, A____, has taken it upon herself as a personal mission to find me a girlfriend. However, recognizing the importance of finding someone of a similar background, A____ has been searching for a girl that she has dubbed as "100% Kosher." I'm not exactly getting fantastic results on my own, so I've become a willing participant in this little endeavor of A___ playing shadchen (Yiddish, transl. "matchmaker").

Some time ago, A____ suggested that I meet her friend, C___. (No. C___ is not C___ from this post.) After A___ has talked C___ up for some time, I ended up meeting her on my own. I approached her, we talked a bit on a few occasions, and eventually I asked if she wanted to grab lunch sometime. C___ was visibly taken aback (which even I recognize is a bad sign), but gave me her email address. I emailed. She tersely responded. I replied. She responded again. But what was lacking in these messages was any reciprocal interest.

Let me explain what I mean by that statement. I don't expect women to throw themselves at me (although, I must admit, the thought has some appeal). It's just not the way the little dance works. However, I have come to expect that if someone is interested in knowing something about me that when I ask that person questions about themselves, they answer and then ask some questions about me. When someone only answers my questions, but asks me nothing in return, I take it as, "Thanks for coming on the show. We have some lovely consolation prizes."

Well, that was the situation here. I got the message. Loud and clear. And I never pursued anything further. I'd always attempt to be polite though. Say hello. Talk to C___ when no one else was. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that the situation was a little embarrassing for me. And running into C___ wasn't exactly something I looked forward to for that reason.

After I invited A___ to the dentist wedding, she told me how excited she was to see C___, who would also be in attendance. I, however, was less than thrilled.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against C___ at all. And it's not like I haven't been rejected before. I mean, please, I've gotten to the point that I admire the technique. But for some reason, since I approached C___ it has been awkward and, well, as much as I hate this word in this circumstance, weird. I have an inability to speak to her and, even when I do, she's, whether intentionally or not, rather cold with me. Ultimately, I've resigned myself to "It is what it is."

When we arrived at the wedding cocktail party and reception, it was what it was. As expected, I told C___ "hello," to receive a "hi" in return. While I pretty much knew the program, the limited efforts that I took to strike up any conversation went unreciprocated. So, in that regard, the evening was pretty much status quo.

The reason this whole little ordeal bothers me though, really doesn't have anything to do with C___. That seems to be the only part of the circumstances that I'm comfortable with. As I said before, "it is what it is." What bothers me is how, despite being at an event with so many of my friends and watching two of my friends get married, I felt so isolated.

Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with B____ and J____, and H____ and R____, and B____ and his girlfriend, and most certainly with M____ and S____. They make me feel funny and fun and, most importantly, wanted. And I was so happy for the groom when I spoke to him and all he could do was rave about his beautiful bride.

But when I looked around and realized I was the "single one" among so many married friends, it was a bit depressing. In so many ways, my life is the antithesis of theirs. To put it bluntly, while they've found their one and only good night kiss, I'm still just setting the alarm and going to bed.
And that, I think, is what bothered me about the situation. It predisposed me to look around the room with this jaded view. And once I did, I realized, no matter how many people are in the room, right now, there's one very important one, that I have yet to meet, who is absent. That unique and special one. My one and only good night kiss.

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