I've lost some bets in my life. I'm not a big gambling man, just some small wagers here and there. But that I lost this one...on my wedding day...is the stuff of family legend. It's a neverending source of hilarity that any one of the Halpert clan can grab onto and have themselves rolling and wiping their eyes within minutes. Even though, it really isn't THAT funny.


Pam says it is; John says it is; but it really isn't.


Here's how it happened.

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Pam and I had bought our first house, a little ranch. No terrace yet, but she had a nice patio off the kitchen and she prettied it up. We had both rented out our apartments, and we had moved all our stuff in our house just the week before. Yeah, we never actually moved in together before we were married. Pam one time said "I don't want to do that before we get married, like I did with Roy....". The thing is, she said that after we had been dating for three months. Did I ever give her a hard time about that. It never stopped making her blush, but the only reason I ever teased her about it in the first place was that I knew we were getting married too. The way you just know.


So anyway, I guess there was a lot of activity planned in that house the morning of our wedding. Something about the hair lady, the makeup lady, and also something about having "room for the dress to hang out". I am not making that up, though I have no idea to this day what it means. So in our new home, the night before our wedding turned into something of a Beesly female slumber party. I don't know, it must be the same pack mentality that makes women all go to the bathroom together. Which is a cliche, but also is very true.


So I stayed at my older brother John's house the night before. Which equaled an Uncle Jim slumber party to my nieces, Lexi and Kate, then almost five and three. They were in the wedding the next day, couldn't wait to show me their frothy looking dresses, which I had to make over for several minutes more than I actually had things to say about them. I do remember though that Lexi, so smart, told me that I was lucky that I didn't have to wear tights, they were so uncomfortable. I told her suits weren't exactly the most comfortable clothing in the world, but she laughed at me and said, "You're so silly, Uncle Jim. Everyone knows pants and shirts are way better than tights." I seriously considered bringing up the tie issue, but since she is my niece and was four years old, she got to win every time.


I also remember this. Before the girls went to bed, we played several rounds of "Uncle Jim and the Monkeys". Wow, I almost forgot about that, the only game I had at the time. No, that's not right, I'm more creative than that. I had several ideas for different games we could play, but this was the only one the girls wanted. And it was the same game every time. I would plant my feet, and put my arms up to my sides, and they would hang from my arms. Even at like, 40 pounds, this could not last long. I am not happy to admit it, but you know, not a big bench presser. So then I would turn into the Big Monkey and chase them around until they couldn't breathe, making monkey sounds that I guess were better than any monkey sounds anyone has ever made, according to them. I don't know why they didn't play this game with John....actually, I do. He had to discipline and set limits and all that stuff; I just had to be Fun Uncle Jim with the Best Monkey Sounds Ever.


So we had played many rounds of this, when I started to see that look in my sister-in-law Lisa's eye. The look every mother gets just before the fun ends. "Time for bed girls, big day tomorrow!" And it took them longer than normal to settle them, and I know it wasn't just because they were excited about the wedding, but because I had riled them up before bed. But Lisa is too great to have made me feel bad about that; she and John just kept taking them to bed after each time they came out (drinks, monsters, the usual suspects that keep kids from falling asleep) until they were finally out.


John grabbed two beers from the fridge, took a long swig from his and handed me one. "Here, for your nerves."



I didn't miss a beat: "I'm not nervous."



He looked at me. Took another swig, and put his feet on the coffee table, since Lisa was putting my baby nephew Brandon to bed. "Yeah, right."


"I'm not. What do I have to be nervous about?"



He was still looking at me and I could already tell I was being set up.



"You are sitting here telling me, the night before your wedding, that you are not the least bit nervous."



"Nope."



"At all."



"Nope." I took another long swig. Not for the nerves, but because now I was going to have to deal with my big brother, who had something brewing. "I'd have married Pam five years ago; you know that." Another drink. "So why should I be nervous?"



He scoffed. "I'm not talking about cold feet or second thoughts, Jim. I'm talking about nerves. Totally different."


I pulled that face, the one that scrunches up like I'm thinking about something, the one that always, always works on Pam, no matter what. Then I shook my head, like I'd thought deeply about it and had decided against it, and I said ".....ummmm, no. Not nervous."


Faces don't work on John though.


Because he started to laugh. A little bit at first, but then more and more as he thought about it. Finally he was clutching his stomach. I had no idea how me insisting I wasn't nervous could be THIS funny. He finally pulled it together enough to say to me: "You're going to crash down so hard tomorrow." And somehow he had to pause for more laughter.



"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not nervous, and I'm not going to be." Another swig. Here it comes.


"Put your money where your mouth is, Young Halpert."


Crap. Caught.


"Yeah, way too subjective, John. We bet on it, and I can say 'I wasn't nervous', and then I get to rob you of some of your hard-earned cash. You really want in on this bet, bro?"


"Oh, not as subjective as you think."


"Really?"


"Oh yeah, there are signs. Particular to grooms."


That's when I knew I was almost sunk. But backing down is not what we do. "Like what?"


He set his beer on the coffee table and went in for the kill. "OK, here's the deal." He counts off on his fingers. "Sweaty palms. Sweaty everything, and I have to stand next to you, sucks for me. Trembling hands. Stumbling over words."


"None of that is going to happen."


"Fifty bucks says it will."


Damn.


We shook on it. Fifty bucks. I still felt pretty confident, but at that point, maybe not fifty BUCKS confident.


He laughed some more. He laughed quite a lot, when he looked at me, for the rest of that evening.

I woke up the next morning, after a great night's sleep. Maybe I woke up a little earlier than usual, but other than that, everything was pretty normal. John and I watched a little SportsCenter on ESPN, and I even read some of the paper. I mean REALLY read it, not just glance at the words like when you can't concentrate. I read the entire sports section, just like always. I remember I read quite a lot about the Phillies, because it was August then.


The girls were up and they almost immediately wanted to start a new round of the monkey games. Lisa put the squash on that right away: "Flower girls do not play monkey games, girls. Neither do grooms."


OK, that's when I did feel just the littlest bit of nerves in my stomach. But it was nothing I couldn't handle easily.


And I kept my cool as we got dressed, though John kept giving me glances and smirking almost constantly. "Feeling OK?" he'd ask. And I was very smooth, "Never better." I was collected as we all made our way to the church, as we waited in the back room with the minister, and even as I heard the music start.


Maybe that bit of nerves was a little bigger at that point, but there were none, not even a little hint, of the signs this bet was riding on. I really thought I was in the clear. Yeah, maybe I was a little smug about it; maybe I raised my eyebrow every time I saw John grinning at me like a fool, maybe even once I held my hand out to show that it wasn't trembling.


Then it was time to take our places. There seemed to be more people than I thought there would be, and they were really dressed up. And they were all, almost every one of them, looking at me. I remember thinking that I was the only sorry thing TO look at, at that point; neither Pam's sister nor my nieces had come down the aisle yet. I knew as soon as the ladies showed up, no one would be paying any attention to me.


So her sister came down the aisle. She looked happy and lovely and every head turned to look at her. Just as I predicted.


Then my nieces were next. Wow, so adorable. All of the sudden, my heart seemed to rise in my chest, then fall somewhere along the region of my belt, and my mouth felt full of cotton, and my palms were sweaty. I gulped; yes, I did, and I know John heard it because he snickered softly.


And there was Pam.


Now, I'm going to try to remember what I really felt and thought, but it's going to get jumbled up with everything I have felt for her since I've known her, and everything she has come to mean to me over time. But I do remember being struck, in that moment, by this:


She was a bride. She was MY bride. My beautiful, stunning, magnificent bride.


I should have known that everything about her would be even more glorious that day. But I didn't. I thought it would just be Pam in a white dress; Pam with her hair done in some fancy way; Pam carrying flowers. I had seen Pam all kinds of ways and loved every one: cute, tired, adorable, sick, beautiful, asleep, dressed up....and lots of other ways too.


But I had never seen anything like this, ever. I had never seen her as my bride.


And seeing her looking at me, on her dad's arm, making her way slowly toward me, both made my nerves worse and calmed me too. There was no uncertainty; this was the best moment of my life. And yet, there was new dampness in lots of unfortunate places. Worst of all, my palms, and now here she was, and I had to take those lovely hands in mine.


I discreetly, so discreetly, just....shifted my palms against the sides of my pants legs.


I could feel John smirking.


And in my right pocket, there was a handkerchief. Good planning on my part, if I do say so myself, because just as we turned to face the minister I pulled it quickly out. And as she turned to give her bouquet to her sister, I was able to very quickly pass it along my face. None of the guests saw it, and neither did Pam. The minister did, and smiled kindly. John did too, but I already knew I had lost that bet.


John behaved himself through the rest of the ceremony. I don't remember much of it other than Pam said "I do" and so did I, and we were Mr. and Mrs. Halpert.


I do remember this though. Just before we took our walk down the aisle, John leaned over to me and whispered in my ear. He saved his kind words of congratulations for the toast. Instead, his first words to me as a married man were:


"Pay up, sucker."

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The story has grown to include me sweating bullets and trembling like a leaf. There's all kinds of details depending on whose company we're in. The part where I pull out the handkerchief is where everyone loses it; that I thought I could take a discreet little swipe and no one would see is just hilarious to my family. (And for some reason everyone thinks it's funny that I carry a handkerchief in the first place, and my nieces tease me about it and ask if they can see one. I always tell them my handkerchief is only for one special lady. But I always carry gum in my other pocket to give them instead.)


And it doesn't matter who is around or how long it goes on, the story always ends the same way. And I make sure that Pam is around when I say it:


"Yup, lost that bet. But won the prize."