Reverend Starshine Reporting for Duty
Only two men have ever seriously asked me to marry them, and I said yes to both. One was my husband, John, 23 years ago, which led us to say “I do” on a Malibu cliff overlooking the ocean. The other was my beloved friend Mott from college — about two months ago.
Mott wasn’t asking me to be his bride; he was asking me to officiate his wedding to his bride. So I got myself ordained on the interwebs as legit damned clergy — and last weekend I married them. On a Malibu cliff, as luck would have it, overlooking the ocean.
An officiant — also known as a solemnizer (yeesh), celebrant (… better), and vow master (now we’re talkin’) — has to sign the marriage certificate, give a charming little nuptial speech, keep the ceremony rolling along at a perky clip, cue the vows, pronounce the couple hitched, and, importantly, leap out of the photographer’s shot for The Big Kiss. All of those duties suited me just fine.