So okay…we really are British on one side of the family. Distantly.   I’ve even been to the town in Buckinghamshire that bears our family name.

But that’s not why I stayed up all night Thursday night to watch The Wedding.   For me, it was all about seeing Mack Daddy #1 give it up for love. 

You have to admit that that nickname was, pre-Catherine, quite apropos.  Just...think about Prince William for a minute.  Aside from being a damned good looking bloke...well, let's put it this way.  I do not care how much money you have or what kinda connects you can boast, Playa, even if you’re a royal from somewhere else, this royal…trumps them all.  

I mean, this is a guy whose pickup move could’ve been to say, “Shorty, you play your cards right, I’ll take you home to meet my family," and then slap a pound note on the bar, point to the picture on it and wink, "I think you've already met my grandmother, right?"

There ain’t a pimp cup in the world big enough to hold all that swag.

Which begs the question, perhaps, “Why give up all that swag for one woman, Dog?”

And that…is another reason I watched.   Chris Rock once quipped that a man’s faithfulness depends on how many options he has.   And William has options to infinity, right?   But apparently he seriously tried to live without Miss Thing for a few weeks to exercise a few of those options…and couldn’t.  

So he did a little begging, won her back and began coaching her for her upcoming role systematically and lovingly for the next few years so that she could decide if she wanted to accept it.

So that she could decide.   Yes, that is exactly what he said, out loud, the day they announced their engagement.   Whipped…and proud of it.   All right, I’m just kidding.   But I really wanted to give props.   And see some good old, inimitable British pomp and circumstance.

But then, on the night before their wedding, yet another horrific natural disaster ground much of the Southeast to dust and splinters.  And I was as conflicted as CNN about it, switching back and forth between eyewitness accounts of the destruction and the perfect wedding of two perfect young creatures in a country far, far away.

I felt real guilt.  On top of all that, there is ongoing, murderous madness in the Middle East, we’re still reeling from the tsunami in Japan and…well…the whole damned planet is a mess physically and politically these days.  Fish are committing suicide by the millions they’re so done with this world we’ve made.  So it was a little hard to justify a 40 million dollar “party.”

But then again, I needed one.  And on my side of the country, coverage all began around 1 a.m.—not soooo late, I convinced myself.  And by dawn…I was wiping happy tears with millions of other crazy fools.

Couldn't help myself.   William, in the uniform and medals he actually earned as a pilot—this guy actually wanted to go to Afghanistan--saluted smartly at all the right times, smiled at all the right times, winked and complimented his bride at just the right times.  And I realized something very important was being said that day.  Also at just the right time.

We need some Old School optimism just now.  Something from that mythical "simpler time" we talk about and yearn for that probably never was.   A touch of 50s fantasy, like that Grace Kelly-style wedding dress.  Just for a hot minute, maybe.  As a time out from disasters and chronic dissention.

Maybe it was good for our collective soul to stop and watch two pretty young people get married after having made damned sure they were absolutely ready.  It’s clear William learned some big lessons from his parents.   Not all of them sad.  Diana gave him courage and charisma, but Charles picked up where she left off at a very difficult time in all their lives.  And it looks like he did a helluva job.

But I do think he is more his mother’s son.  I think perhaps he chose Westminster Abbey, the site of her funeral, to honor her memory and also to bring us all full circle from grief to joy.   It was his way of inviting her to the wedding the only way he could.

And having felt her pain, William wrote, with his bride, a wedding prayer that they be guided, by God and country, not just to be the embodiment of all our dreams and fantasies but also, to succeed where his parents had failed and strengthen not just the monarchy but the institution of marriage itself which...let's admit it...needs some good PR as badly as the royals do.

Catherine’s hunky brother read the passage from Romans challenging the couple to offer up their young bodies as a “sacrifice” for the common good.   “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire,” another wedding sermon began, soon after. 

They accepted both challenges, that day, the Prince and his lady fair.

They’re going to be scrutinized and criticized through their fishbowl life together no matter what.  So they seem to have decided, as Diana did, to use that star power wisely. 

After the first reception of the day, William drove his bride past the throngs in a little biofuel fed Aston Martin with a “learners” license plate up front.  I’m sure that was Harry's last "tease," that plate.   But it was, for me, the most moving and appropriate symbol of all. 

As powerful, prepared and purposeful as they are, they are still just a young couple setting off on the most important journey of their lives.   And more than ever right now, I feel as if we’re all learners, groping in the dark for answers in our turbulent times.  The Prince and his pretty lady gave us respite--and a few clues--just by getting married with the utmost sincerity.

And remarkably, I didn’t see any nerves, even when the ring got stuck.  And their hands, held high by William on that long walk away from the altar, did not tremble. 

Of course, they’ve known each other for about 10 years now, living together for the better part of that, so they’re pretty comfy with each other by now--I think that's why they're in no hurry to honeymoon.  They've kinda had that, already.  And of course, for them, just being a military couple living in a tiny Welsh village is a more exotic "escape" than the usual honeymoon destinations could ever be.

But here's hoping William is not called away this week as he was the day after he announced his engagement to pluck yet another stranded climber from the side of some mountain.

Diana used to call him “DDG,” short for “Drop Dead Gorgeous.”  The looks changed a little as the hair thinned, but he was never more breathtaking than he was during that wedding.  I felt a strong, shared sense of purpose in those sidelong, almost conspiratorial gazes he gave his new bride as he sat there with the whole world watching.

Diana was watching, too, from on high somewhere, no doubt.  Smiling that mysterious little Mona Lisa smile of hers, and thinking, “Damn, I’m good…”