Yesterday, I watched my Adam get married. It was a very strange and emotional weekend, to be sure. It's certainly been a very long ten years of friendship. I couldn't believe I was sitting there watching Adam take Shanna to be his wedded wife. My friend, who dyed my hair orange in his father's bathtub and vomited oreos at my parents' house when we drank too much secret alcohol in high school. We are not silly kids driving in convertibles in winter time any more. He was the same Adam--same goofy smile, same strange giggle at inappropriate times--but he was a grown up man taking vows of marriage. All I could think about was that I, too, would be doing such a grown up thing soon.
Somewhere in between watching him smash cake in his bride's face and hugging him goodbye, it occurred to me that he was an incredibly happy, married man. I can't decide which idea is more difficult to adjust to...my friend being married or my friend being a man now.
I sure hope this does not mean he will stop calling me in the middle of the night to describe fantastic hot dogs, even if he does tell his wife about them first.
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