We always meet at weddings, in fact, we meet every morning, bringing closer nose-to-nose and look directly to discover some wrinkle. But at weddings the meeting is more meticulous: raising eyebrows, examining the accuracy of the eyeliner, the direction of the pony, and an artificial smile, with shiny teeth, to make sure 'Sarah didn't call'. Our codes always work, and are especially critical at public events like weddings. After all, it's unpleasant to shout in the middle of the round table, "Hey, you've got something stuck between your teeth, no, not here, left, left I said, that is right, yes, yes, there!", And then: "No, it's still there, still there, farther to the left I said, yes, yes, right there, right there!", To hear the sigh, the pushed back chair, the slow walk with mouth closed to the mirror in the women's WC or in the foyer. The elevator-music that accompanied the serving of the first course was being repeated for the third time, the same drab harmonic pattern. The waiters and their black neck ties, the women's lace, high heels and their fur - blended well into the trite social picture.