Kilted Scotsmen and Water Sports: These Wedding Hookup Stories Are Nuts

Kilted Scotsmen and Water Sports: These Wedding Hookup Stories Are Nuts

Hussies, any final one of you. And appreciate God for that, given oh child oh boy, your wedding hookup stories are crazier than a bag of raccoons!

First, we gotta give a shoutout to Suck It, Trebek for formulating a new comment to tell multiple marriage hookup stories. That’s some loyalty to a craft, right there.

Onto a rest of your stories, and oh God, were there ever some doozies. we can’t even start to move myself to reconstruct this one though if we would like to spend a rest of a day screaming, please step this way.


There were unequivocally some themes. A ton of we bending adult with brothers or cousins of a bride or groom, like Anonypants:

I was a bridesmaid in a tighten friend’s wedding. Got to a rehearsal, beheld that her three-years-younger hermit had gotten SUPER lovable given we final saw him, brought him behind to my place after a accepting and showed him a REAL good time. He finished adult spending a night with me and perplexing to hide behind into a hotel where a family was staying early a subsequent morning. His mom saw him using adult a stairs, that started a outrageous “where did B spend a night?!” kerfluffle that didn’t finish until about 6 months after when we was visiting a newlyweds and a GROOM’s hermit attempted to strike on me and we incidentally blurted to my friend, “I can’t nap with BOTH your brothers!”

A lot of we were doing it in hotel bedrooms we were pity with mixed friends, like NoGStringsAttached:

Summer after college.

I returned from (a unsuccessful try at) nannying in Spain in time for a marriage for a investigate abroad friend. Said friend’s groomsman and we had an on-again/off-again offshoot adult situation. Proceed to get martial during marriage and driven to a hotel by groom’s aunt/uncle. Make discerning stop during a McDonalds opposite a travel (where we travel by a drive-thru) and afterwards conduct a ONE hotel room that 8 of us are sharing. Promptly explain one of a dual double beds. Start touching and establish it’s best not to do this RIGHT HERE so we event over all of a friends sleeping on a building to a hotel room bathroom. Get it on. Stumble behind out and over pronounced friends. Crawl into a bed.

Wake in a morning flattering gratified with ourselves for being so discreet. On a expostulate home one of a building friends turns to me and says “I discovered your underwear from a lavatory building and put it in your backpack. You owe me a drink.”

I can’t conflict a story that involves a kilted man, like this one from Fancyfingersticks:

At a marriage during a Scottish castle, a kilted groomsman and we went to his hotel room. Not usually his posh hotel room, that would be for a regulars. He felt a hotel lavatory was a ideal voluptuous times place. We were holed adult in a bathroom, while there were pointless people entrance in and out of a room raiding his hotel mini bar. we totally know since Scottish group would wear kilts: no bitch no disorder esp when they are totally wankered. 6am we emerge to find all a ruins of a mini bar strewn about and finished adult trolling any dilemma emporium for mini booze bottles and Pringles cans while a object was rising. Scottish marriage – check.

I also can’t conflict anything that involves hulk ‘80s bridesmaids dresses, that are somehow not even remotely a best partial of this story fromwickerwitch:

Back in a 80s, a crony from college invited me to be her bridesmaid. We lived hundreds of miles from any other, and had usually exchanged brief letters in a years given graduation. we shouldn’t have accepted, though we suspicion it would be fun to see her and a people we used to hang out with.

Since we had reduction income than many of a guests, my crony had invited me to stay during her unit for a weekend. The rest of a spousal celebration possibly lived circuitously or had requisitioned bedrooms during a hotel where a accepting was to happen. When we arrived after a long-ish highway trip, we was weirded out by all a Christian parapharnalia all over my friend’s abode—she hadn’t been eremite when we knew her. we was newly out of a closet in a vast city—but awaiting of entrance out to her and her new Christian friends and her fundamentalist fiance in a mIidst of a regressive tiny city was daunting. So we kept still and played along with a hetero-fest.

There was one chairman during a marriage who seemed to be giving a record a same side-eye we was feeling. The groom’s comparison sister, like me, had trafficked from a vast city to get to a wedding. She had changed divided from a family home years before her brother, widowed mom and other siblings “found Jesus.” She and we finished adult holding a integrate bottles of booze behind to a hotel room she was pity with her mother. We suspicion we were protected given of march a mom of a husband would wish to stay for any notation of her son’s wedding. Unfortunately, we didn’t know a mom would come behind to a room to take her blood vigour medication.

When a mom walked in, her perspective of me was semi-obscured by a vast poufy 80s bridesmaid dress her daughter was wearing. She looked during a bed in a confused way, afterwards asked her daughter since there was an additional span of boots there—then gasped as she satisfied there was a whole additional bridesmaid on a bed. She ran out of a room shrieking. My hookup and we shelved to a one happy bar in that city she knew from before moving—still in a big-shouldered, elaborate 80s bridesmaid get-ups (think Princess Di’s marriage robe though in yellow). We were a usually women there, though a parochial happy guys bought us drinks all night.

So great! Just unequivocally so so so so so many illusory stories to select from. But in a end, we have to palm a story-of-the-week honors to CatLadyStark:

Once on a time, final year, my sorority “big sister” got married. Being from a south, a marriage parties were vast and sincerely tight-knit. However, due to a final notation cancellation, a groomsmen outnumbered a bridesmaids by one, and so one of them jokingly offering to resign, if he could still be concerned somehow.

Flash brazen to a ceremony. Groom, maids and group enter, as per usual. Everyone turns to a back, awaiting a bride subsequent – though no! It’s a 6 feet high suspended groomsman, poetic in his tailored fit and crawl tie, holding a basket full of rose petals. He achieved his avocation utterly superbly and combined a bit of flightiness to a really romantic (all certain emotions, though still) wedding.

And that, friends, is how we fucked a flower girl.