Perhaps it's an occupational hazard. I've been a public high school teacher for nearly twenty five years and I've looked into the face of evil many, many times in my career. But I simply cannot endure the hugs and kisses belched out like machine-gun fire at weddings.

It's not that I'm against demonstrations of affection. I understand that they can be appropriate and powerful. In fact, every day at school I see kids experimenting with that power as they make believe, crammed against a locker, that flimsy clothes cannot unto themselves block the true course of love.

It's not that I'm against love. I love love. Love keeps wedding bands employed. But there's something about that bending forward from the hips, hug and kiss moment with lots of people from out of town, that makes me desperately tired and cranky.

But when I attend a wedding, and I'm subject to the obligatory round of hugging and kissing, smiling and grinning, nodding and well-wishing, I begin to feel like an alcoholic who desperately needs to get drunk and then stay drunk for a lost—in fact, buried under the earth for centuries—weekend.

It's possible that as an author (and therefore an observer of human nature), I need more nasty and mean to cleanse the palate against all that gooey wedding cake of happy tears.

But don't get me wrong. I wish every bride and groom their special joy on their very special day.

Kiss, kiss. Hug, hug.

Now let me return to normal. What the hell are you staring at, pal?

I feel better already.

Donald Gallinger is the author of The Master Planets

View Donald Gallinger's Official Website Blog at: http://www.donaldgallinger.com/dons-blog.html