Issie is a fidget. I am a still person. She continually rubs her hands together, taps her feet, jerks her knee. She once read that this constant nervous activity uses thirty calories an hour, more than a Mars bar a day, pounds in a year, a whole dress size in a lifetime. Her constant unfocused activity strikes me as a fairly accurate metaphor for how she lives her life.

I don’t try to catch the flowers. I don’t try for two reasons. One, Issie will lynch me if I catch them. She’s spent the entire reception spiking the drinks of single women, in the hope that this will diminish their coordination. And two, it’s bollocks.

No really, the whole marriage thing is bollocks. I mean I’m as happy as the next one to have an excuse to wear a hat and drink champagne. Generally, wedding receptions are a laugh, a big, fun party. But that’s as far as it goes for me. Beyond that, it’s bollocks. I’m not a man. And I’m not a lesbian. I’m not even a man hater – Josh is one of my best friends and he’s a man. I’m a single, successful, attractive, 33-year-old, heterosexual. I just don’t want to get married. Ever.

Clear?

Issie doesn’t catch the flowers and she looks as though the disappointment will break her.

‘A drink, Cas? Issie?’ asks Josh, in an effort to cheer her up. He doesn’t wait for a response but turns back to the hotel and heads directly for the bar. He knows that we’ll willingly join him for a drink Martini-style: any time, any place, anywhere. We elbow through the elegant crowds. This morning they sat demurely in church pews but they have now abandoned any semblance of civilization. The exit of the bride, the groom and the oldies leaves the rest of the guests free to indulge in what brought us to the wedding in the first place. The opportunity for some hedonistic, no strings attached, unashamed sex.

I selected my target in the church, before the ‘I dos’. I relocate him. He’s tall, dark and handsome. Admittedly, he doesn’t look that bright. Rather too in love with himself to allow room for anyone else. Perfect. Deep and meaningful is an over-rated phenomenon. Shallow and meaningless but well endowed gets such a hard press.