In the next few months we’re profiling all of our wedding guests. Check back to see what we write about you.

Jon drinks Coke, no ice; eats microwave pizza and dry Apple Jacks; and watches The Commish. And that was when he was 20, so you can imagine how wild he is at 30, married and with child.

I met Jenn the night she met Jon, but I’ll be more couth than her maid of honor and I’ll refrain from describing the circumstances. Jenn is tolerant—not so much of Jon as he doesn’t do anything wild enough to require patience, but more so of his friends, who do.

But beneath Jon’s calm exterior is a calm interior. But beneath that is a wrath the likes of which can scare off the likes of yo, yo, yo PD as well as the Salem plague. When I think of Jon, I think of best practices, lessons learned, and balance sheets. And when I think of Jenn I think of spice racks in the computer room.

Jenn and Jon have a young son, who looks like Jon, but somehow also manages to be cute. They live near my folks now and I enjoy seeing them when I venture back to Massachusetts.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing pictures of Jon at his goy-best dancing with my mother at the wedding.

If you are talking to Jon and Jenn and the conversation hits a lull, ask Jon about his nickname on the basketball court. Or ask Jenn about what it’s like to have wed the most-predictable man in America. Or if she’s coined any more nicknames for herself. (And thanks to Jenn for submitting the picture of her and Jon.)

*scheduled to attend

In the next few months we’re profiling all of our wedding guests. Check back to see what we write about you.

Jamie is another fraternity brother of mine from Wake Forest. But first I knew him as the guy who looked like Jesus, always played Frisbee in the courtyard, and made a stink if there weren’t veggie burgers at dorm cookouts.

Currently Jamie serves our nation as a historic interpreter at the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Islands, fighting fires in our west, or helping inner-city youth with the claw vending machine. And he serves Margaret and me by hosting us and directing us to hipster-chic restaurants and bars when we head to New York City.

Those of you West Virginia Mountaineer boosters will be happy to know that when Jamie was in West Virginia a few months ago he did a scorching karaoke rendition of John Denver’s “Country Roads” and created a drink called The Mountaineer—a shot of Merlot dropped into a Guinness and pounded.

Margaret and I had a fabulous time rafting and camping with Jamie and his New City crew this summer too. Most importantly though, this year Jamie put my fantasy-football dominance on hiatus by besting me in the championship game.

If you are talking to Jamie and the conversation hits a lull, ask him if Margaret and I still owe him anything. And if he asks you for a spoonful of your food, oblige him.

*scheduled to attend

In the next few months we’re profiling all of our wedding guests. Check back to see what we write about you.

My first memory of Matt is from when he was a freshman at Wake Forest and stopped by my fraternity lounge whilst I was outside shooting hoops. Matt started draining long-range jumpers. And by “draining” I meant he went 1 for 7. And by “1 for 7,” I mean he went 1 for 15. Boom goes the dynamite!

The following year Matt and I were roommates. And we’ve been good friends since, traveling together to ACC tournaments, confectioner conventions, and fat camp.

Every wedding has the surly guy, and Matt is ours. Once, in Perth, he kicked Jesper Parnevik in the teeth and stole his cap, because Parnevik had mocked Matt’s second cousin, Padraig. That temper has earned Matt the scorn of people ranging from the lead singer of British alternative-band-wannabe Bush to the front-end manager of an Arby’s.

Doubt me? Just ask Alex or Scott, also expected to be in attendance at our wedding, about the time he trashed their dorm room, armed only with a pen, sticky paper, and Sleepy.

But Matt’s generous too. He’s the type of guy who would—and did—buy Carl Perkins a new pair of glasses. And he’s always willing to make room on the couch for a pretty lady or offer you a mini muffin.

The oscillation of his demeanor makes me both love and hate Matt, feelings I’m open about. Open to the point of calling him at 2 a.m. and sharing my sentiments with him. Repeatedly. Right now I’m at a love-him stage, but that mindset might change by the wedding.

Matt is likely moving from Winston-Salem, NC, where he is on track to be mayor by 2003, to be with his girlfriend, whose name escapes me, in St. Louis where she is studying the secret language of birds.

Anyway, if you’re talking to Matt and the conversation hits a lull, ask him which parts of this profile are true and which are utter nonsense. Or ask whatshername about the time she was in a Bananarama cover band.

*scheduled to attend

In the next few months we’re profiling all of our wedding guests. Check back to see what we write about you.

As with so many of the other guests at our wedding, I met Jeff when I pledged his fraternity at Wake Forest. The first impression he made on me was at our spring formal in 1995. We had encountered some students from a nearby, rival university and had invited them to our campfire. Jeff, however, let them know in no uncertain terms how he felt about their school. Repeatedly.

Jeff made an impression on Tracey that weekend too. She attended our formal as the guest of another fraternity brother, but she pretty much left with Jeff. They just celebrated their five-year wedding anniversary and have two lovely daughters.

As my first post-college, big-boy roommate, Jeff had quite an impact on me. In fact, I was thinking of him this morning when I put a new Clorox Bleach Automatic Toilet Bowl Cleaner tab in the tank of my toilet; one of the first lessons Jeff taught me was that using such a product would keep me from having to clean my toilet as often. For that guidance, Margaret and I both thank him.

Tracey and Jeff are also an inspiration for our wedding-night plans; they joined their guests at the after-party too. Hopefully their return from the bar to their hotel room after ours, however, will be less eventful than mine was after their wedding (again, I apologize to Pittsburgh’s homeless population and media outlets).

If you are talking with Jeff and the conversation hits a lull, ask him if in hindsight, he’d rather have been in Madrid, Spain, or at Heinz Field, Pittsburgh, on January 23, 2005. Or ask Tracey about the coolest gift she ever gave Jeff.

And if it appears the wedding reception hits a lull, I’m going to introduce Jeff to one of our guests who is a Duke alumnae.

*scheduled to attend

In the next few months we’re profiling all of our wedding guests. Check back to see what we write about you.

I first met Aaron when I pledged his fraternity at Wake Forest. The following year we were roommates. A few years later we roomed together again, with Dan S. and Matt R, for two years just outside of Washington, DC.

If my life were a TV show, Aaron would be my Kramer, my Arthur Fonzerelli, my Kenny. Only Aaron doesn’t die. He’s invincible. He’s told me so. Repeatedly.

He’s survived crashing his motorcycle, being hit by a car while riding his bike, being hit by a future doctor while patrolling the outfield, balancing a satellite dish on a 15-foot pole while two-stories high on a steep roof, leaving chicken on the counter for a month, having an extended stint on a park bench, staying in a hotel that gets rented by the hour or week but seldom by the day, and spending an afternoon at the gym after thinking that his God was dead. When some hoodlums carjacked him, they were the ones who fled the car at a stoplight.

I could go on.

And I will. Aaron is generous. He drinks his whiskey without a mixer, because it’s in your best interest. He’s so intent on grilling you the best burger you’ve ever had, that he’s so focused, so dedicated to your meal, that he won’t notice his arm is smoldering. And when we coached Little League, nothing stopped him from being at the field at 8 a.m to warm up the pitcher.

In sum, the man has two thumbs and loves…life.

Aaron has always been classy (especially with his pipe and silk robe), smart, and successful. But it wasn’t until after he met Jen that we can add “almost sane” to that list of adjectives. And I reckon there’s a good chance the word “alive” wouldn’t apply to Aaron if it weren’t for Jen.

Jen is quiet and quick witted. Unlike Aaron, who’s been known to show poor judgment from time to time, Jen only does likewise when she roots for the University of Maryland.

Not only has she helped Aaron, but Jen’s also done wonders for their dog Satchmo, who is essentially Aaron in the form of a beautiful 140-pound chocolate lab. Jen’s even been brave enough to spawn the son of Aaron.

Anyway, if your talking to Jen and Aaron and the conversation hits a lull, ask Aaron who drank all of his margaritas. Or ask Jen how Maryland did in the 2007 Orange Bowl.

*scheduled to attend