“Beautiful day for a wedding.” My father looks debonair in a light gray suit as he shakes my hand.The handshake turns into one of those man hugs where we pat each other’s back.“practice absolute anonymity.” The fear — and I assume this holds true for anyone with young kids to protect, plus my dad, who is convinced the Internet is just one big credit-card-stealing, identity-theft trap — was that an axe murderer would find and kill you.The internet we know today, however, is but a balcony upon which to fan out intimate life details as though they were dollar bills and we were making it rain.In "Call Me Maybe," Carly Rae Jepsen most certainly created the pop hit of the summer.
And be naughty and have a lot of dirty wedding night sex.Raya, a scene-y dating app filled with variations on that guy who brings his acoustic guitar to parties unsolicited, uses Instagram handles to vet applicants.Once accepted, your handle and those of your potential matches are baked into each profile by default, right under “name.” There is a section that shows your matches’ most recent Instagram posts, and they can see yours. When I joined last year I assumed the point was to prompt conversation.I’m marrying my best friend, the one I laugh with, live for, dream with. That is until I got the biggest surprise of my life… There’s a reason I look cool as a cucumber, and it’s not because of the October breeze zipping through the air.EXCERPT “What feels like the end is often the beginning.” Dean See that dapper guy in the navy-blue suit, crisp white button-down shirt, blue and silver silk tie, and matching silk pocket square? I’m stoked to make it official with the woman of my dreams.” They don’t post anything endangering, job-threatening or otherwise incriminating.