I'm past my best, but aren't we all?
It becomes more and more difficult to be a best man as you get older. At a certain point in the life of a groom, the kind of "hilarious" stories a best man might have shared at a earlier stage of life become inappropriate. Indeed, at my time of life, all the duties and rituals of a best man become inappropriate. After 40, you get set in your ways, you can't really do the whole drinking thing with the same gusto, and you do not want to wear any suit that isn't your own.
But I had one more ride on the merry-go-round recently in what I would imagine was my last outing as a best man. And the thing is that, apart from being unseasonably old to be the best man, I entered into the whole thing with one other fatal handicap. Which is that I have grown to hate weddings down the years. I kind of dislike organised fun of any kind, but weddings make me feel especially trapped. I hasten to add that this recent wedding was a great day out and I enjoyed every second of it, as far as I am aware. Even the aged relatives on both sides, who can often be problematic at a wedding, were a bit of crack.
The other problem with weddings at this hour of my life is that, like anyone who has been married for a great deal of time to the same person, I can tend to be a bit cynical about the whole cuteness and foreverness and lovey-dovey nature of it. People getting married look so happy and they think it's the beginning of a great romantic adventure. And of course it is. And the two people getting married on this recent occasion were two fabulous, fun people. But you know how it is, when all the eternal love and bunny rabbits starts, the married people in the audience tend to take it all with a pinch of salt.