Pink Light and Shark Fin Soup

I woke up on D's couch with the morning light beaming at my face. Before I could squint, my head sunk onto the cushion and spun wildly. I stumbled nauseatingly to the bathroom. As I reach for the faucet I felt something strange in the back pocket of my slack. It was a white plastic fork. How did it get there? Flashbacks. Pink light. Pink decoration. Wilted, oily bok- choy. Cambodian music. Love songs from the nineties. Many shots of Hennessy. Triple-shots mojitos in plastic cups. Oh right. I attended a friend's wedding the night before.

I used to despise asian wedding receptions. You know, those receptions held at tawdry decorated seafood restaurants serving shark fin soups and house special lobsters. I vowed to my parents that they will never see me anywhere near there for my own wedding. This vow has a high probability of holding true considering the current situation. Besides, no shark has to suffer for the cause of my happiness.

My friend's wedding reception that night did not escape the seafood restaurant fate. It came with the rosé ambience and unsavory dinner entrees. However, unlike many of the previous receptions I have attended, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Perhaps it was the familiar faces at my table. People I have not seen for almost a decade. And D, one of my closest friends. Maybe I couldn't stand the awkwardness of seeing people striving desperately to be civilized. So I let go. I stepped off that pedestal of reservation and joined the party. When the Cambodian folk songs came on, I invited myself to the circle and gracefully curled my palms seductively. H. reminded me the morning after that I even attempted the dances from Jane Austen's novels. Decorous and genteel with bows and curtsies.

Suddenly, the gaudy finery became almost tolerable. Wedding receptions are more for the guests anyway. It's the ceremony that is reserved for the bride and groom. As long as one guest woke up with a utensil in his pants the morning after, it was a successful reception.

Any regrets that night? Well, maybe I shouldn't have whispered in the groom's ear that I am gay and that he has nothing to worry about between me and his bride. Or I shouldn't have played cupid trying to set everyone up with each other. But then, what is there to worry about? There is nothing to hide.