On friends

In addition to our sisters, who you’ll get to know in a later post, I want to introduce you all to the two women who will stand up with and for me, on my wedding day and in my life.  They rock.

As soon as George proposed (let’s be honest, way before he proposed) I knew who I would ask to be my bridesmaids.  Of course, my sisters Tori and Genevieve topped the list, along with George’s sister Marika.  Sisters are non-negotiable, after all, and mine are among the most incredible women I could ever hope to know.

There are also sisters that a woman gains by choice--other women who earn their places in our hearts by sticking with us through trials and tribulations, who celebrate with us at milestone moments in our lives (and sometimes just for getting by), who pick up the phone just to share, just to vent, just to ask, just because.  They ask nothing of us in return, and because they don’t demand it of us, we’re always there for them.

Okay, enough of that.  My maid of honor, Jacqui Emerson, and bridesmaid, Caroline Romano, do not inspire warm fuzzies.  We’re frenemies, in fact.  They kick my butt out of slumps, they tell me when my jokes are stupid, and they mock me when a hairstyle doesn’t work or when that red lipstick is just too bright.  They’re women of steel, and they’re as crazy as I am.

Jacqui is my Maid of Dishonor (though she does have the better part of valor).  She and I both started in the BFA Acting program at Emerson College, and when we realized it wasn’t our path, we switched (me first, because I’m swifter) to Political Communication.  I knew that Jacqui would be a friend for life when we discovered that we share the same ridiculous hamster-like laugh when we really, really crack up--a sort of high-pitched squeal that hurts after a while, and is mortifying in public, but that cannot be controlled.  Her discerning taste in espresso and YouTube videos are enviable.  This New York City girl hails somehow from Maine and Oregon, but will stay in Boston for undefined periods of time if lured in by a Rubix cube.

Caroline is my Bridesmaid of Destruction.  We also met at Emerson College in the poli comm program, and shared many ridiculous jokes during less-than-exciting lectures and lame attempts at study sessions.  Caroline can’t decorate a cupcake for her life, but excels at sloppily written, creative obscenities in icing.  She exfoliates and moisturizes more than anyone I’ve ever met, and despite the creepy factor, I love to touch her soft, soft arms.  She also has beautiful hair.  If you really want to get in good with Caroline, call her Coraline, like the character from the movie with the button eyes.  She LOVES that.  I’m lucky that Caroline lives nearby so that I can soak up her scathing wit on a frequent basis.

There is no one I’d rather have by my side on my wedding, or any, day.  I just hope I do enough for them--on both the supportive and sarcastic fronts--to merit all they’ve done for me!