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The wedding was a disaster. And not just because it rained on the big day, soaking everything from the flowers to the guests to my Cinderella-themed dress under a spray of lightening bolts. No, the real problem was the bride and groom themselves—they were stuck in an endless cycle of erratic foot-stomping, sweat-soaked memories that could only be characterized as sensual torture. So I stuck around for a few hours to help clean up and try to salvage whatever remnant of dignity they could salvage... But it didn't work out. When I had first arrived at the wedding hall, the sight of the two people manhandling each other so intensely caught me off guard. I thought they must have been from a different species until I realized that their behavior was perfectly normal for a couple who'd been married for twelve years. In fact, they were so frenzied that what they did to each other made no logical sense—they went from the insane to the divine in a matter of seconds . Soon after, though, I spotted a friend sitting by herself at a table with a glass of wine and an untouched plate of food. I planned to talk with her for some time and kill some time before I headed home. My friend, Alma, had been married for three years and had a two-year-old son named Ahmed. When I sat down next to her, she was killing time on Facebook and hadn't even touched her food. "How are you doing Al?" I asked frankly. She sighed deeply like she always does when she's tired or upset about something. "The usual, you know... I've got so much on my plate right now. I feel like my life is falling apart. " "It's not so bad, Al." I tried to reassure her, but it didn't seem to be working. I took a bite of my sandwich and continued with the conversation. "Everything is fine with me," I told her. "My career's going great and life has never been better." Alma looked at me in disbelief . "What are you talking about? Are you serious?" She shook her head in pity like she always does when she thinks someone else needs saving when she herself is drowning in emotional messes . "I don't know, Al. I mean, I can't complain. I've got a great apartment and a great life, but lately..." It occurred to me that we were having this conversation at a wedding hall—the same place where the couple had gotten their marriage license and where they'd been dancing wildly and passionately less than an hour earlier—and for all I knew they could still be screeching up a storm somewhere in the building. The idea of those two nuts right then made me feel physically sick. "Wait, wait," Alma suddenly interrupted me as she put her hand up to cover her face as if she weren't sure if she should believe what her ears were hearing . cfa1e77820
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