Astring quartet plays in the background as I listen to a famous New Age guru perform a wedding ceremony on a Malibu cliff. The guru is marrying two friends of mine who met in an acting class last year. She turns to the groom and launches into a spiel about how from now on, he’s going to make the bride’s "heart his home." That’s when I start to lose it, I feel the Malibu sun warming my shoulders and melting all my cynicism into a pool of mush. I grip my girlfriend’s hand for support but she’s doing worse than I am, wiping her teary eyes on a scarf.
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