A wedding under the stars

J. Oliver got married this weekend.

She was the most pro-active dater I've ever known. She approached
dating the way she approached just about everything else in her life
-- with down-to-earth pragmatism. What is the use of sitting around
and whining about being lonely? "GET OFF YOUR BUTT AND MEET NEW
PEOPLE!" she would say to me, and generously offer to me the use of
her subscription-based online dating service.

I still remember sitting opposite her and listening to her recount
story after story of horrible first dates. I would cringe and
silently pat myself on the back for being the type that sits on the
couch and whines. (She would kill me if she read this.) Well, she
didn't meet anyone interesting, so she let the subscription for a
month run out.

She had her heart broken once too, but she wouldn't say anything to
anyone about it. We sat on the sidelines and watched her fall in
love, and watched when he rode off on a motorbike with a piece of her
heart. All of us wanted to ride after him with a pitchfork aimed at
his heart. That's what friends are for, but she didn't say anything,
so we just watched and waited.

She became a biker chick, then a sexy babe with curly tresses, then
back to biker chick, then to a dowdy housewife look, then back to sexy
babe with curly tresses, but she was still the same girl through it
all. We kept on raving about curry puffs, eating mee pok, swearing at
the system, dreaming about NGOs, making appointments to run, and doing
what we can while we wait for life to happen.

And it happened for her last weekend, underneath a canopy of orchids,
with vows that bring tears because of everything the words mean.

Gosh I am so happy for her.