THERE’S an actual occupation called professional mourning. Predominantly confined to historical times, though still prevalent in Asia and the Middle East, professional mourners, known as moirologists, are now available for hire in the UK, just a telephone call away from delivering wallowing wails or subtle sombreness at a funeral near you.

Well after this year, I think I could justifiably rent myself out as a professional wedding guest. In the space of seven months I attended 10 weddings – yes 10.

With a carefully selected, rotating system of dresses, hats and shoes, I’ve crossed oceans and cultures and to see family and friends tie the knot, say I do, get hitched, and do the deed.

With each couple inevitably putting their own stamp on the occasion, I’ve enjoyed picking out the personal touches that made each big day unique.

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We’ve raised a tequila toast on a lantern-lit pier over the Gulf of Mexico, joined the church congregation of guests in an a cappella rendition of Louis Armstrong’s Wonderful World, replaced confetti with a flurry of bubbles blown over the newlyweds in a giant tropical greenhouse in Liverpool, donned saris and had our hands adorned in intricate henna designs for a Tamil Hindu service, and stood under a summer’s dusk with Neil Diamond’s Something Blue playing over speakers as the bride and groom danced their first dance on Ripley Castle’s gravelled terrace overlooking the lake in the distance.

Like the professional mourners, I’ve honed the skills of crying at all the right times, perfected the careful blot of a mascara clad eye, and toned down unflattering sobs to more dignified sniffles.

I’ve learnt a lot from this year’s dectet of weddings. I’ve learnt about what it means to be a wedding guest, helped by how I felt on my own wedding day. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had a hellish week at work and could really use the day to catch up, or if you and your spouse had the mother of all arguments in the car on the way there, if you experienced an unfixable wardrobe malfunction just before leaving the house, or if you’ve already been to nine weddings so far that year (thankfully only the latter was true for me). Basically, it’s not about you.

A wedding is undoubtedly a celebration of love, but it’s also in most cases the culmination of months of planning and preparations, not just so the bride and groom can enjoy the day the way they want to, but so they can enjoy the day surrounded by the people they love, and know they are enjoying it too.

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A lot of thought goes into the guests when planning a wedding, from the nightmare of the guest list itself, to picking menu choices, reception drinks, favours,planning the music for the evening so there’s something for all tastes, and in some cases organising extras to fill in any gaps in the day’s proceedings, from musicians to casino tables, and photo booths to chocolate fountains.

This year I’ve even seen baskets in the bathrooms containing everything a guest might find themself in need of, with a helpful supply of sewing kits, hairspray, paracetamol, blister plasters, deodorants and more.

But I think what I’ve learnt about most from the weddings is human emotions.

Yes, obviously love is undoubtedly the overriding emotion at a wedding. But as a guest it’s the too often sidelined sentiment empathy that unexpectedly hits you.

It’s why we cry when we see the bride for the first time, a beautiful blush of nerves and excitement, clutching onto a father beaming with so much pride it bursts from every thread of his suit.

It’s why we dab away tears when cracking voices say their vows, taking in the enormity of their promises, and why napkins don’t just protect our laps during the speeches.

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Yes, I hold my hands up, I’m more soppy natured than most, so it’s not surprising I cry at weddings. Seeing my childhood friend from primary school become a Mrs required a whole pack of tissues, and my previously mentioned dignified sniffles deserted me when my aunty and uncle tied the knot after being together as long as I can remember.

But whether empathy reduces guests to tears or not, succumbing to it is what makes a wedding stand out from any other party.

Relating to the feelings of the bride and groom, their parents, grandparents, and closest friends, helps us appreciate how special this day really is.

Empathy is why at many funerals we don’t just feel our grief, we look upon the family at the front and feel a piercing sadness for their loss rather than focus on our own.

It’s why, like professional mourners, I think I could actually make a job out of it; a pre-prepped wedding guest ready to cry, dance and be merry, whether I know the bride or groom, or not.

Give it a couple of years, and I’ll no doubt be an expert on Christenings too.