And thank God right? Imagine if I were married, I already feel sorry for the poor soul that’ll eventually end up with me. I meant to write about the final of Britain’s Got Talent at the weekend although considering no one really reads those posts I thought I’d write about something else instead.
I attended my fourth wedding in the last year and a half; any excuse to get hammered. Back in September a year and a half ago I wrote about being the Usher/Best Man for my friends wedding, a friend I’ve known for 12 years. This past week I was the Usher for another friend I met at college.
Unlike the first wedding this one took place in a church, a real church wedding. Don’t get me wrong I don’t mind going to weddings but I really hate going to Church, it’s such a farce. I’m not in the least bit religious yet they expect us to stand there and sing stupid hymns and say amen to bullshit prayers; naturally I didn’t partake in either because I don’t pray outside a church so I’m sure as hell not praying inside of one.
I think it’s just a gimmick these days getting married in a church and it was a lovely service it’s just not my kind of thing. If God (lol) forbid I ever do get married I doubt it’d be a church wedding and if it is, it won’t be my decision. It certainly wasn’t my friends decision this time around hah.
Words can’t express how proud I am of Ray though, we’ve been through a lot over the years. Since I met him he certainly liked his drink, I remember him coming into college first thing in the morning fresh off a night of underage drinking; he’d kick off his shoes, climb on the desk and have a sleep. The lecturer didn’t seem to mind as it was less one person she’d have to yell at.
As the years went by however his drinking intensified; every Saturday night I’d be the one having to carry him to a taxi or getting him out of fights because he’s knocked over someone’s pint (he may as well of shot his dog or something). Every week he’d make an absolute twat of himself, pissing himself, pissing on the wall of the pub, pissing on petrol pumps, walking into his neighbours house by mistake and pissing in their cupboard; the list goes on.
I remember one time I went out with him and another guy in Nottingham, they were both so hammered and I felt it my duty to get them both home, after nearly being kicked in by a load of bouncers protecting them I got them to the train station, got them to the right platform, just had 50 minutes to wait for a train. I turned my back for a minute and he’d disappeared, went off looking for a pub somewhere, got lost and didn’t know where he was. I had to leave him and get the other lad home, I was so angry I could have killed him.
But still the years went on and he got worse, started dabbling in drugs and hanging with a bunch of people I would have killed had I ever met them and so we grew apart for awhile. All his friends grew apart from him, we tried to help and tell him what he needed to but he didn’t want any. He’d soon realised however what he’d lost and started getting his life together, one day he just stopped drinking altogether. The moment he stopped drinking everything fell into place. He’d stopped getting fired from jobs because he’d had a few cans of beer as soon as he woke up, he stopped getting arrested, getting kicked out of his house. He’d gotten his life back on track and soon met his future wife Kim.
She was 18 when he met her and he was 23, bit of an age gap but they seemed to be the perfect couple. The moment he’d met her it was like having the old Ray back without all the alcohol issues. As the years went on it was obvious she wore the pants in the relationship, maybe that’s a good thing, as long as he’s goes someone telling him what to do he’s fine and they eventually of course got married.
It’s hard for a lot of people to give up drinking, if that’s your drug of choice then it can just be as hard as giving up anything else; he hadn’t had a drink for maybe 4 or 5 years until the night of his stag night where we let him have one night of being the old Raymond and getting absolutely smashed, disappeared somewhere in the night in the middle of Newcastle, somehow made it back to his hotel (which still boggles me to this day because he didn’t know the name of it) and passed out outside his room. Carrying him to bed he proceeded to wet himself, classic Ray.
His next drink after that was at his wedding but he didn’t go all out, just some nice socialable drinking which proved to me that he has grown up a lot since we first met. I’d never been so proud standing with him at his wedding and I know all of his family and friends were just as proud too.
After the wedding was over with we’d headed up to a place nearby where he lived that hosts the night parties for the weddings, there were four other wedding parties being hosted there that night but the place is that big I didn’t see anyone else from another party. It looks so small when you drive past it but when you walk around the grounds it’s huge.
The only thing that maybe annoyed me is that everyone there is now a couple, all of my friends have girlfriends; there was single old me sticking out like a sore thumb. Sure I got along with everyones girlfriends but it would have been nice to have one of my own. I thought I’d found my life partner in that stupid bitch Fiona but obviously that was not to be.
Sure I like being single at the moment and flirting with as many women as I want but I tell ya, I’m no spring chicken these days. It’d be nice to settle down at some point.
Bah, who am I kidding? Forever party animal.
Definitely felt the pain Sunday and today though, especially after the shapes I was busting out on the dance floor. ROOFLEZZ.