Wedding crashers

Okay, so it's not technically crashing when you get an invitation, but the whole point was to hit on pretty girls with visions of their own white dresses going through their minds.

Suit up.

I show up with my fearless wingman (wingwoman?), sign the book, and get in line for the line. The bride and groom are both more than six feet tall, so we feel like ants.

I always think it's super awkward to shake hands with all the groomsmen, the happy couple, and two sets of parents before I get a chance to meet the bridesmaids.

Unfortunately there are no bridesmaids. There aren't any groomsmen, so Wingwoman shares my disappointment.

We wander over to the food line, grab an empty table, and wave over the photo girl, who happens to be a friend of ours.

The three of us munch on our crepes. Another scan around the tables reveals two normal-sized girls have arrived. One is ginger, so that's a no-go, and the one wearing sunglasses looks pretty cute.

As Wingwoman, Photo Girl, and I chat, we notice Ginger is staring. Designer Shades has also been caught checking me out. Or at least, we think we saw her eyes behind the black lenses.

It's nice to be noticed, but I'm not much of a gambler, so I decide I'm too shallow to risk chatting up a girl whose face I can't accurately judge on a scale from 1 to 2.

Photo Girl and Wingwoman agree there's only one cute guy in the whole place and are about to get their flirt on before one of them recognizes him as the groom's younger brother and nixes the plan, avoiding any awkward kidnapping charges.

Like I said, we're a foot shorter than everyone but the toddlers, so even the teenagers look like adults.