WEDDINGS BY THE SEA

I stood out on the balcony, overlooking the sea. White waves rolled under a grey sky and there were specks of rain in the air. I thought I'd stay out there just a little bit longer, suited and strange, tight-necked and thoughtful in the chilly air.

I'm not all that used to wearing a suit. When I look back at photographs it looks smart and comfortable enough, but the photo never shows the bulbous feeling of the tie curving over the stomach, the unusual thinness of the trousers or the clunkiness of the shoes. For most of yesterday I felt like I was wearing shiny clogs.

Anyway, what I was wearing yesterday wasn't really the important bit. It's fair to say that the really important stuff went quite smoothly: the bride was stunning, the groom was funny, the church was beautiful, the speeches were short, the relatives were proud and teary, and the party was fun. Well, at least it seemed so from where I was hiding: my introversion once again had led to me stand out on the balcony watching the sea.

I think I know what it is. We dress up for formal occasions, and often formal occasions carry a little bit of anxiety with them. Interviews, funerals, presentations, speeches, weddings, court appearances - generally they're nervous affairs. Weddings shouldn't be, especially if, like this one, my bit was already over. They are though. And even though my bit was done, I had still chosen to hide away for a quiet moment, overlooking St Ives with my social anxiety.

There had been other moments like this, at weddings by the sea. Ten years ago, I was Best Man at Paul and Heather's wedding. Their reception was in a beachside café, not too far from here. Somehow or other I had pulled off the speech and I was feeling quite good about the day by the time I drove the happy couple to their secret location. I was looking forward to going back to the cafe for a well-deserved drink and a final catchup with people.

As I pulled the car into the car park, I saw the bar staff upturning the chairs and sweeping the floor. The tide was rolling in, thick and black against the sand. Everybody had gone - including the people who had the key and the directions to where I was staying. My heart sank.

Then there was Winners and Teebs's wedding in Suffolk. That was by the sea too. At the end, as the sun set and the sky was laced with purple and gold, all my friends and I went to the beach, kicked off our shoes and ran through the sand dunes as the night fell. It remains one of the best things I've ever done at a wedding - and I've been to a lot of weddings.

The rain got a little heavier and the grey sea rolled beyond St Ives harbour. A question was forming, one that I don't think I understand fully. Why was I distancing myself from people, when being around them was the exact thing that I loved, valued and needed? How have I ended up as an introverted, lonely old soul who stands out in the rain on a balcony, at a wedding, longing for people to be with, when there's a whole room of them having a party inside? And what must they think of me?

I straightened my uncomfortable jacket, thrust my hands into my thin-lined pockets and clacked my shiny shoes across the wooden decking, back inside to where it would be warm. Or at least I hoped so.