Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Some Day My Prince Will Come

My buddy Marty got married last weekend. While a detailed account would likely waiver back and forth between gushing bridesmaid (Moose) and sallow adolescent groomsman (me), suffice it to say this thing was fantastic and that a good time was had by all. I think this picture pretty much sums up the after party. And I think we all know how this one ends.

Happily ever after.

Actually, I just found a copy of the speech I gave at the rehearsal dinner. Thankfully, I suckled at the teat of a Grey Goose enough to loosen up and wing some of it. At least I'd like to think I did. I was so frigin' nervous.

A lot of people like lists. They make things easier to follow. Right? (awkwardly pause and wait for crowd to confirm whether they like lists.) Yeah, they do. For this reason, I'd like to start with one:

Martin's favorite things, in order:
1. Liz. Right? I mean, he is marrying her? He probably likes her....? (Wait for everyone to shower the two of them with applause. Encourage it.)
2. Family, especially his darling parents, Mike and Cathy. There they are. (Point at them and grin.) Look at them. Go on. Look. They're adorable. He likes his brothers sometimes too.
3. Martyball. And no that's not a football reference. Martyball is when you lay on a couch for an entire day watching TV and eating rubbish.
4. Complaining, about almost anything.
5. Eating out.
6. The Cape.
7. Noticing how stupid people are.
8. Starched, button-down shirts
9. The Boston Red Sox, who're in second place by the way (wait for boos).

Marty’s an anomaly. Always has been. Or at least has been since I've known him. When I first met Martin as a sophomore in college he was an apparently malnourished, shamelessly preppy hippy. At this point in his life, having already survived a heart attack, he’s managed to balloon to 230 lbs. Congratulations, Marty. (Wait for gleeful patronizing applause.)

At this point in his professional career, Marty’s an infamously successful schmoozer paradoxically incapable of schmoozing. If you’ve ever hung out with Marty, you know exactly what I’m talking about. “Yep.” “Nope.” “Fantastic.” This from a guy who majored in communication AND english! What takes most people an hour to explain, Marty can explain with a single grunt... which I suppose makes him the most efficient if not effective communicator of all time. “Gruuuuuunt.”

Confounding things even further, when the mood strikes him, he’s actually a fantastic storyteller. Never one to mince or waste words, he can bring an entire room to its knees with one of his stories. Like the time he pooped in his pants while he was waiting for the T. We've all heard that one, right?

Or one of his poignant one-liners that he'll bark in a tone that is quintessentially Marty. "It's not a choice, it's a lifestyle."

The aforementioned list and subsequent characterization may paint a less than favorable picture. You might be asking yourself, what the hell does Liz see in this guy? Why would this beautiful, articulate, and intelligent woman settle for this? Perhaps he treats her like gold? The truth of the matter is, it is oftentimes difficult for those close to Martin to know whether or not he cares.

Until last summer, my jury was still out. My mother had passed away July 19. I never really liked to talk about it. Still don't. Eventually, however, Marty and I found ourselves in his apartment after a night out on the town and probably a several hundred drinks. We sat there and cried on each other for at least an hour, but mostly Marty just told me between sobs how much he loved me, how much he cared about my family, and insisted that if I ever needed ANYTHING, anything, that I tap him. Neither of us are really given to sentimentality or overt gestures of emotion, so eventually we dried our eyes and calmed down like men, both suddenly uncomfortable with the levity and seriousness of what had just transpired. We undoubtedly loosened back up with another drink and an inappropriate joke.

In this vein, a week later, seated beside one another at a wedding, as we usually request, Martin put his hand on my shoulder and , gazing deep into my eyes, said in a solemn tone, "Seamus.... No matter where you are.... or what you're doing... Just know.... I am ALWAYS ashamed of you."

Now, of course Liz knows Martin loves her. She certainly doesn't need me to tell her..... But, just in case she does.....

Outside of his rigorous and demanding work schedule, Martin does what Martin wants, more so than anyone else I've ever met. Marty's personal life is 100% wish fulfillment. If he's eating dinner with his family, it's because that's precisely where he wants to be, what he wants to do, and who he wants to be doing it with. Consciously or not, he takes great pride in this.

He might not explain very well how he feels without the help of 200 adult beverages, but he does what he wants and what he loves with those he loves. So, if you pay a little attention, you can actually learn quite a bit.

I noticed he was big-league smitten with Liz when we were seniors in college, and he'd bail out on hijinks with the boys just to wait by the window for Liz's arrival on Fairfield Beach Road, cell phone in hand....

I knew he was in love when he continued to make similar choices well on into adulthood. While he chastises others for filling their social calendars in accordance with the plans of girlfriends/fiances/spouses, Marty stealthily leads the league in filling his calendar around the love of his life.

I'm not kidding.

"Grunt a bunch of times like Martin." Which means, I can't, I'm taking Liz out to dinner.

"Grunt a bunch of times like Martin." This means, I can't, I haven't seen Liz all weekend and she's on her way home.

"Grunt a bunch of times like Martin." You get the picture.

Liz is exactly where Marty wants to be.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

One of my favorite parts about the speech was the reaction of an unidentified woman in the back of the room to Marty being ashamed of you...

Seamus: "No matter where you are.... or what you're doing... Just know.... I am ALWAYS ashamed of you."

Crowd: (Laugh)

Confused unidentified woman: "Why is that funny?"