We cut our Europe trip a wee bit shorter than originally scheduled—though three weeks wound up being more than enough time; maybe even too much—to fly back at 5pm today and make it to the 6:30 wedding of two people I adore. Now, let’s just hope Delta cooperates and breaks their streak of canceling or delaying every one of my last eight flights, or I will be gutted.
John is the oldest of us five cousins (and arguably the craziest…in a good way…I think). He’s the one who first proposed Cousins’ Weekend, brought jorts back (the greatest fashion comeback of this century), the one who enforced neon tanks as our family dress code, the one who first met SVV when we were barely dating back in 2005.
In fact, he was living in Vienna for four years while I was living in Europe, and our first Christmas together, SVV and I took the train to Austria and stayed on his couch. It was an epic Christmas and the only one I’ve ever spent abroad away from my parents.
On Christmas Eve, he came to retrieve us at the train station in Vienna wearing Carhartt overalls—”Carhartt butts make girls go nuts,” he always said—and a pillow stuffed under his shirt for effect, Billy Bob teeth in his mouth, a Santa hat on his head, and his coarse facial hair molded into a Kaiser Wilhelm cut. “This is my family,” I sighed to SVV. “Better you know now while you still have an escape route.” Here he was then:
Here he is now:
Not all that different, in retrospect. His beloved mutt Dunn is so clearly saying: “I’M GETTING A MOM! THANKS, DAD!”
He moved back to Music City in 2007, just before I was getting ready to head West, and he quickly became the Mayor of Nashville. You couldn’t (can’t) go anywhere in town with him without hearing “Hous” (his nickname) shouting across the horizon.
Particularly at Paradise Park, Nashville’s resident trailer “resort” and his most frequent haunt, his very own Cheers bar if you will.
Girls were always interested in him—I could never quite figure it out; sorry, John (I kid, I kid)—but he never really gave them the time of day.
And then he met Allison, two Julys ago on the kickball field, and I never knew my cousin fall for a “fe” (his abbreviation for female) until he met her. But how can you not?
She’s gorgeous, she’s sweet as pie, she’s got the best Southern accent, she works in special education, and really, there’s not a single thing you could find wrong with this girl.
And the best part is, she’s wild about him, too.
He proposed to her in February (on the kickball field, naturally, during a tornado), I shot their engagement photos in March, and they’re getting married tonight, in Nashville, the city that brought them together.
For all of you single ladies who have been asking for years how you could meet this eligible bachelor, I’m sorry I’m not sorry to say he’s officially off the market.
And I’m pleased as punch it’s for this girl.
And to John and Allison, I truly could not be happier for a couple that makes me smile every time I see you. Here’s to decades of happiness, laughing, jorts and brewskies, and dancing, always dancing.