It only took one fat bribe of chocolate cake,
three strange mystery photos of the Not Boyfriend's phone,
several thwarted quivery-lip moments over the button-down shirt that I insisted be worn to this wedding, a
negotiation over whether it needed to be tucked in and worn with a belt,
half a can of hairspray, four hot pink lipstick re-apps,
a $350 Virgin America bait-and-switch Groupon "special airfare" to fly in the photographer,
and 17 tiny, grateful kisses (four swatted away from the boy, the rest scattered and very welcomed by the Not Boyfriend).
Worth it. Totally worth it all.