“If I was your age, we’d be in jail together!” Terri yells to me, her voice raspy and reeking of a horrific combination of Southern Comfort and Marlboro Reds. She tops this revelation off by giving me an uncomfortable hug while the other bridesmaids look on, some in fear.

Terri is the Mother of the Groom and, at this moment, she is drunker than anyone at the combined bachelor/bachelorette party, which, when you take into account how many keg stands were performed, is really saying something.

But this, of course, is no surprise to anyone that has ever come in contact with Terri. Although well into her fifties, the woman prides herself on being the life of the party and likes to let everyone know (whether they want to or not) how wild she can get.

When I first met Terri at the dress fitting, she didn’t fully let on her wild side, but she was a little over-excited. Being a first time bridesmaid, I was over-excited as well, so Terri took a liking to me. This liking led to a Facebook friendship, which subsequently led to several drunken conversations (her, not me) about tequila and, strangely enough, Fiddler on the Roof.

At the party, which was only the third time I saw Terri in person, she greeted me drunkenly like an old friend and informed me that she had rearranged the pairing of groomsmen and bridesmaids so I would be walking with her son, the groom’s brother.


“I told him that you would be a good time.” Terri said with a wink. Not sure what she meant by “a good time” and wondering if she had forgotten that I had a boyfriend, I took a big gulp out of my Cape Cod without saying a word.

A week later, it was the morning of the wedding and I was in the midst of getting ready while mentally preparing myself for my new groomsmen pairing (who ended up fulfilling all my obnoxious expectations) as well as his mother.

By the time the reception rolled around and the drinks started flowing, Terri hit the dance floor in full form; bumping and grinding up against anyone that was in a two foot radius of her. She came up to me several times, to either proclaim our “BFF status” or to chastise me for not being as crazy as she was.

Terri lived up to everything I thought she would be at the reception; loud, obnoxious, and a drunken redneck fool. But in the end, she became something else – endearing. There aren’t a lot of Terri’s in the world, and if I ever find another like her, I will keep close company. After all, they make for great stories.