After the two games of volleyball, Jonah stood with a beer in hand at the edge of the court. Cameras at my waist, I asked him about the setup at the venue. Other than a dead car battery, he said, everything had been easy. He really just had to put his vows down on paper.
“It’s all up in here,” he said, pointing at his brain as if he were pointing at his heart.
“Well,” I suggested, “they just need to be honest, it doesn’t have to be long.”
“Oh, that’s helpful advice.” Here, as always, the advice was of the self-referential variety.
“I mean, it can be long if you want it to be.”
“No, Lauren and I aren’t really long people.”
