Highlights From A Family Wedding
So every other Seattle sex blogger – and several from other places – have blogged about how great SEAF was. The Thursday night party certainly was lovely. But since I spent the weekend in Orlando, Florida at my brother’s wedding, guess what? I’m writing about that instead.
The whole event was very nice. The dress I picked out, after all that agonizing, turned out to be perfect. I wasn’t a bridesmaid or anything, thank god. I have pals who have impressive collections of bridesmaid’s dresses, but I’ve never been one, and I see no reason to break up that winning streak now. I instructed my brother very firmly that I was not to be given any official role in this wedding other than guest.
I actually haven’t been to that many weddings, period. So this was my first exposure to some of the silly wedding-reception traditions I’ve seen in movies, like throwing the garter, lots of teary speeches, a DJ who plays cheesy music and tells everyone what to do, ect.
It was also my first experience of a wedding reception that went on for hours. And hours. With an open bar, and a lot of toasts. Everyone, including my mother's rather prim sister, got pretty well lubricated. (Watching my sweet but staid aunt dancing to “The Humpty Dance” was an experience I’m not sure I can do justice to with mere words.) My brother’s wife is Italian, and her family is very nice – and very Italian. Her mom reminds me of a petite Mercedes Ruehl. I think they have a greater ability to handle alcohol than my Anglo-Saxon family.
But they like my brother, so that’s all fine. I remarked to the Mercedes Ruehl-ish mother of the bride that my brother was a sweet man. She replied, in a heavy Jersey accent, “A sweeta man nevah lived!” With the accompanying palm-out, wrist-snapping hand gesture. Seems he’s got his mother-in-law firmly in his corner.
The other amusing thing about the weekend: I hadn’t thought about the fact that my brother would naturally invite a bunch of his childhood/teenage pals to the wedding. Since my brother is two years older than me, that means: people I also know from my childhood/teenage years. To include - the first guy I ever dated. More specifically, the first man I ever had sex with.
The night I arrived at the hotel, I walked into the bar where everyone was meeting up, and thought, “That guy looks familiar, who is that?”
And he grinned at me and said “Oh, fine, don’t recognize me.”
I about fell down on the floor. I was not expecting the first person I saw to be my teenage sweetheart. I met him when I was fourteen, we started dating when I was not-quite-sixteen, and I haven’t seen him since I was about twenty-one. We did have an email exchange not too long ago when, through some social channels, he made the connection of “my old girlfriend” to “Mistress Matisse.” I was pleased to hear from him then, and he was highly amused by my career choice. He’s married to a really sweet woman and they have two adorable children. I’m so glad he’s happy.
And you know what? Spending a little time around him reinforced my opinion that he was a good choice for me as a young girl. Looking back now, I can see where he exercised self-discipline and integrity towards my virginal teenage self. He had a reputation for wild behavior among his male peers, and he was by no means a seventeen-year-old saint with me. But he was a gentleman about the things that mattered, and I respect him for that. I’m glad I had him for my first lover.
We had a lot of fun kidding around and catching up. And we agreed that while we’re both different people now, we are also still, in many essential ways, the same people we were then. He was teasing me over something at one point, and when I reacted, he said, “Oh how cute - you still do that thing where you stomp your foot and try to scowl.”
The First Boyfriend was not, by any means, submissive. But I told him, “You know, I can recall telling you about sexual fantasies I had about women, and about kinky stuff. You were extremely cool and supportive about all of that, even stuff that wasn’t about you, or anything you would be personally into. Thank you for that.”
“Of course I was.” He looked genuinely puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Yeah. A very good choice for my first sexual partner.