**Diary Entry The Accidental Best Man**
If someone had told me at breakfast that by evening Id be standing in a white shirt, clutching a strangers bouquet, forcing a smile while vowing to support their union in front of a room full of unfamiliar faces, Id have laughed, tapped my temple, and carried on stirring my porridge, gazing at the quiet street outside. No omens, no suspicious coincidencesjust an ordinary morning. But life, as it turns out, enjoys throwing surprises your way, especially when youre in slippers and holding a mug of tea.
It began when I popped into the registry officenot for official business, but because the best sausage rolls in town are sold at the stall opposite. The queue, the smell of buttery pastry and sizzling sausageseverything was as usual. Then, out of nowhere, a sleek black car decked with ribbons and roses pulled up, gleaming like something from a film. A lively crowd spilled out, laughing, clapping, snapping photos, and setting off confetti poppers. Suddenly, I was swept into the chaos as if Id wandered onto the set of a festive advert.
One of the bridesmaidsa woman in a shimmering emerald-green dressgrabbed my arm with such conviction, youd think shed known me for years. There he is! Our second witness!
I glanced behind me, half-expecting someone else. But no. All eyes were on me. Someone whistled; others clapped louder. Before I could protest, I was ushered inside, handed a boutonnière, and shoved beside a tall bloke in a suit so crisp he mightve been ironed into it.
Hold the bouquet, smile, the bridesmaid hissed, adjusting my boutonnière like she did this daily. Our real witness is stuck in traffic. Youre saving the day. Just dont blink too muchyoull look like an owl in the photos.
I meant to refuse. Truly. But then the organ blared *Here Comes the Bride*, echoing through the hall. The doors swung open, and the procession marched inme, swept along like an extra whod missed the rehearsal.
Honestly, it was surreal. I stood beside the groom, who kept fiddling with his cuffs and checking his watch as if late to his own wedding, and the bride, who looked ready to cry from joy and nerves. Her veil trembled with every shaky breath. I didnt know their names. I wasnt even sure I was holding the bouquet rightwas it left hand? Tilted slightly? Did I look like a complete fraud?
When the registrar called the witnesses forward, I stepped up and it hit me: I was living a sitcom moment. Cameras flashed. The photographer clicked away like he was capturing history. And there I was, a man whod only wanted a sausage roll, now part of a strangers weddingofficial, stamped, and sealed with a soundtrack.
The strangest part? No one questioned it. Not the groom, not the bride, not the aunties dabbing their eyes in the front row. I signed the register, posed for photos, and later, the green-clad bridesmaid handed me a slice of cake and a flute of champagne as if it had all been planned.
Cheers, you saved us! she grinned, nudging me. Need a plus-one someday? Youre family now.
When I finally left, I had a bouquet in one hand, a napkin with her number in my pocket, and the faint echo of wedding music in my ears. My porridge would have to wait. Instead of a quiet morning, Id stumbled into someone elses celebrationchampagne, confetti, and the odd satisfaction of having starred in a rom-com by accident.
**Lesson learned:** Always expect the unexpected. And maybe avoid registry offices at lunchtime.
