Last night I managed a wedding and reception at the fabulous Temple Events Center. The Mr. and Mrs. weren't the only ones in wedded bliss; I was in heaven, too. For 12 hours I was in my element as the kinda sorta Wedding Planner. The wedding party and their closest friends wore TOMS; the bridal party in red to match their ubercute LBDs and red jewelry, and the boys in black. Only later did I learn the groom's cousin is the (pretty) face behind TOMS. And yes, he was at the wedding, but I had no idea, even as our eyes did the talking (I wonder if he noticed my snakeskin heels). Apparently he left early to mend his broken heart from the recent breakup to his supermodel girlfriend. Go figure.
Each time a pair is sold, TOMS provides a pair to a child in need. I plan to snap up my own soles (red or black or both?!) as soon as the gov cashes my check; at least this is an ROI I will actually see... As cleanup ensued at midnight, a groomsmen told me my 4 inch heels could be more comfortable than the shoes on his feet. I flashed him my best you must be kidding smile and (slowly) sauntered away. But a flashy pair of TOMS could be useful for my next event.
The San Francisco photographer thought I was Russian and told me I have a chiseled jaw line. Bless his heart, I should've snapped him up.
The bassist in the band asked if he could use my phone number for personal use instead of business, to which I quickly brought up my faux boyfriend. But he texted me anyways, "Hey, it's Pat from the band. Here's my number in case you ever don't have a boyfriend."
Bold. And brave. He must get the chicks.
Little does he know that in real life I don't ever have a boyfriend...
I met Seth, the musician flown in from Nashville to sing and strum on his guitar. His skinny jeans and cowboy boots, blazer and fedora were classic. "Hipster Country," he said. A bit Austin and a bit Nashville. Ooh, he was adorable. But then he danced the night away with someone else (can't blame him) after we exchanged numbers. Problem #2: they always like someone else.
And then some drunk guy asked me to dance. But my feet hurt.