Sensibly Sh**faced

Anyone remember way back in February when I wrote What Makes A Good Sibling? Well I’ll assume that your memory is about as good as mine and you can’t be bothered to recap by reading the post. Long story short, my oldest sibling, brother known as R is in a long term relationship with a woman that not one single member of my family likes never mind approves of. I asked you guys for a bit of advice about how to deal with the impending drama that would no doubt occur at my other brother’s wedding at the beginning of July.

Well guess what, I did nothing in preparation. I know it’s not at all surprising considering my penchant for laziness. However as predicted drama did in fact ensue so just sit right there and let me tell you about how I became… oh hmm, not the prince of Bel-air… a sensible drunk? No that doesn’t rhyme… ah feck it who cares anyway.

You might think that we’d be starting this tale on the wedding day but nope. The night before the wedding R stopped by my other brother’s (the groom’s) place, where our mother was staying for the weekend. He was definitely bringing his *shudder* girlfriend. And what was more she had laid down some rules, despite this not being a day that was at all about her she had decided she was to be obeyed. So my brother told my mother she was not to talk to his girlfriend on the wedding day… he also said neither O or I were either but that’s no skin off my nose, I had no plans to converse with the gold digger. Although I do wonder why I was chosen, I don’t remember doing anything particularly offensive…

This unsurprisingly pissed mother off a bit but she was determined to make sure the wedding day was a happy one for her son. The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch and my siblings and I had a bit of a chuckle about R’s girlfriends ” lovely” haircut. I don’t know where she’d gone to get it done but I’ve watched enough Rupaul’s Drag Race to have learned the difference between a boy cut and a ladies cut. A boy cut involves a straight line across the back of the neck, guess what she had…

The reception too went pretty well I thought, Mum and Dad obviously sat at the top table with the happy couple. And the remaining siblings grabbed a table away to ourselves with K’s other half (Irish if you forgot their codename). The trouble didn’t start until the evening party.

I think I was about two mixers and eight shots into the evening when Irish came to tell me Mum and R’s girlfriend were having a chat. Ugh this is no good she needs a nick name of her own, well let’s see she’s a gold digging, manipulative troll from Scotland…  Troll sound good?

Okay so I get told mum and Troll are having a chat, well actually I got told they were having a argument so I thought I better check it out. Forgot my damn popcorn though… It turned out they weren’t having a chat, somewhere along the way Irish must have gotten their wires crossed. But just as I sat down to start on shot number nine my brother’s new spouse sat down next to me and asked if I knew my mother was crying.

Well no I fecking did not. So up I jumped got directions to mum and went to check she was okay. Granted my mum was probably quite a few glasses of wine into the evening but she had decided that as it was a happy day and she just wanted R to be happy she’d try and make peace with Troll. From what I can gather she got no further than the beginnings of a conversation when she received a look of disgust from Troll who then promptly stomped off.

My mum is a pretty emotional lady I suppose but I doubt this would ordinarily have set her off. I think the combination of her cat dying the day before and that Troll had merrily been buying dad drinks. Well I say she’d bought dad drinks but technically R had bought dad drinks as she has no job…

Anyway the upshot of all this was that everyone got to tell R he was wasting his time and money on Troll, she was never going to give him the he was ready for. And K got stuck in a conversation with Troll, during which time either Troll lied/bent the truth quite a lot or we discovered R hadn’t told us the truth. R is normally a straight shooter so I know which I’m more inclined to believe.

I felt like I was quite well behaved considering how much I’d drunk by the end of the night. I didn’t once speak to Troll, I didn’t vomit even when I saw her face, and I was a conversation refuge for my brother who despite it being his “big day” needed a break from it all regularly. Being autistic means that having his picture taken all day and having to make a speech and dance in front of everyone was probably pretty close to his own personal hell.

So that was the “fun” that is apparently entailed in a Hansen wedding day. Aside from that I had a pretty good evening, I was getting on pretty well with K and Irish.

The moral of the story is don’t expect a Glaswegian trollop to be an adult for a single day. And get drunk so it’s all easier to deal with. Correct me if I’m wrong of course.

S. Hansen

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