How to fly solo at a wedding like a pro.

The slow songs will be the hardest. You should know this going in.

If it is early in the night, I suggest strolling up to the bar when the ballad begins and you see couples pair off. At worst, you get a refresh on your drink of choice and linger a moment or two longer than necessary making idle chit-chat with the wait-staff. (Surely, they’ve seen this move thousands of times before.) At best, you mingle with other attendees that came without a plus one. You all make the same joke about heading to the bar, you all share the same laugh, you unite in each other’s company for the minutes Etta James or Journey or Ray Charles croons.

If, however, the slow jams start up toward the end of the night, after last call? You will need a plan B. I often rely on the plan B I call “taking a stroll.” Almost every wedding location I’ve ever been to has an interesting hall or walk-way or some point of an interesting something that helps one kill four or five minutes. Should you find yourself in a hotel ballroom, surrounded by those cloth covered air-walls and no where to stroll, I’d say that is a grand time to head to the bathroom for a little hair and make-up check. In my book, the "bathroom run" always acts as plan C.

Of course, should you hit it off with someone early in the night the first time you saddle up to the bar (See Plan A, above) congratulations. You just found a reason to ditch plans B and C.

Now that the tough part is out of the way, let’s get back to the basics.

Bring bandaids. You – or your new best girlfriend that you make while you see her wincing in tortured, bleeding toe, high heel pain – will need them.

If it is at all possible, bring flip-flops. Yes, you may have the sexiest, cutest pair of heels on the planet, but you are not going to want to wear them for five or six hours straight. And you’re certainly not going to want to rock out to Billie Jean or Footloose or do the Twist with them on. If you’re carrying a big bag, store them in there. If you’re carrying a clutch (which, let’s be honest you probably are) leave your flip flops in the car. If you’re very lucky you’ll have a male friend who will graciously go get them from your car on your behalf. (He shouldn’t mind too much – his shoes are far more comfortable for a stroll. Plus, it gives him an excuse to get another beer while he’s up.)

Advil, Aspirin, Excedrin. They will all fit in that tiny clutch. Bring at least enough for you and two other people. You will make fast friends.

Bring a camera. Use it. Otherwise you will regret not taking pictures.

Drink at least a glass of water when you sit down to dinner. You will thank yourself later.

It’s okay to get misty-eyed when everyone stands to watch the bride walk down the isle. And during the ceremony, when the bride and groom exchange vows. And throughout the champagne toasts. And while you watch the bride and groom’s first dance. And again during the father/daughter dance. And at the end of the night slideshow. (A few tissues tossed into that clutch would be a good idea too.)

Laugh a lot. Revel in your friends amazing story-telling abilities and the fact that for a few blissful hours the gang that once always was is back together again. Freeze a few moments in your brain.

Eat that slice of wedding cake that magically appears in front of you without an ounce of guilt.

With the exception of the slow songs, (again, see above) DANCE.

If there's a chance, grab a dance with your friend, the groom. It will most likely be the only chance you get to talk to him all night.

And always – even when (especially when) – a touch of the dateless blues strikes, lean on your friends. Because they love you if you arrived with someone tall, dark, and handsome on your arm. Or not.

That's part of what makes them all just so darn awesome.