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​A few weeks ago, I went to my cousin’s wedding; my mother’s sister’s son was getting married. Being part of the ‘family’ contingent generally means you don’t know many people aside from the rest of your side of the family but, in my case, I knew a few people on my uncle’s side as well. I lived with my aunt and uncle and their son and daughter (my cousins, obvs) for six months or so when I was 12, I think, so there’s some history there at least.

At first, I wasn’t very excited about giving up my Friday (usually my day off until my waitressing shift starts at 5pm) to drive two plus hours up the coast on a super hot, perfect beach day. In fact, I was quite peeved about it all, not to mention a tad hungover. Nearly everyone else was staying overnight but we’d decided to drive back up that night so we still had the rest of the weekend to ourselves. So that’s a four and a half hour round trip with a family wedding in between.

Needless to say, I was not enthused and I did much grumbling in the lead up to the event. Why would they want us at their wedding? I barely see these people. I don’t know them as a couple. They’ve really only invited me because of some tenuous biological link. They feel obliged to have me there because we’re family. If it was my wedding, I’d want people who really and truly knew us and were celebrating because of that fact rather than because they got an obligatory invite. Bah fucking (wedding) humbug.

Yet a curious thing happened when we got to the reception (fuck the ceremony, sorry, but that shit was boring plus we were about 15mins late and had to scurry in and huddle at the back of the church, hoping not to be seen). It was actually fun. It was hot as balls out in the harsh Australian countryside but I’ll be damned if hanging out with my extended family wasn’t actually a little bit ok. You forget how many memories you have. You see people you haven’t seen for ages. They tell you you haven’t aged in a day. You believe them. It’s a grand old time.

Although I wasn’t sold on the idea in the beginning, by the time we left, I was glad I was there to see my cousin get married. To feel the emotion in my cousin and uncle’s speeches and see the love their friends and family have for them. I might not know his wife very well. I might not know the man my cousin is now but I knew the boy he was and I’m glad I got to be there for him and his family, who were there for me when I was 12 and terrified of going back to Jamaica.

My one (ok two) regret(s) is that we couldn’t stay to watch them cut the cake or have the first dance. We left at about 9.30pm and didn’t get home until nearly midnight. My partner/chauffeur was nearly asleep at the wheel so we couldn’t really leave much later than that without risking our lives. If I had my time to do over, I would definitely have stayed at least the night so I could bust some sweet wedding moves on the dance floor. That’s where I shine. It would have been my wedding gift to them, aside from the money we put in their wishing well. I’m a good dancer. They would’ve loved it.

And here’s some wedding photo booth awesome right up in your face. You’re welcome.

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Image credit: Quotes About Love and the photo booth at my cousin’s wedding.