Friday, March 26, 2010

Ode to my Guzband


Before there was my soon-to-be husband, there was my guzband.  Yes, you read correctly.  Guzband. As in, my gay husband.  He also, as it happens, is my man of honor.  And this decision, apparently, makes me very trendy (and trust me, I'm never trendy so I'm feeling very cool right now).

According to a 2010 survey, an overwhelming 63% of brides would ask their best friend to be a ‘bridesman’ or ‘man of honor’ if they were a guy.

My Guzband (or main gay as he refers to himself) and I have known each other for over a decade.  He's seen me go from frizzy haired middle schooler, never been kissed 15 year old, crazy kissing-obsessed college girl, single and ready to mingle 20-something and now, finally, engaged semi-domestic goddess. 

Through all the breakups and bad jobs, hangovers and disastrous dates, he has always been there to make me laugh, bake cookies with me, and slap me back to reality ("you won't be single forever!" was a refrain he must have repeated at least 2,000 times).

So even before I knew that picking my Guzband to be my man of honor was tres chic, I had already given him the title.  Because really, I couldn't imagine anyone but him escorting him into the next phase of my life.

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