I Was Ric Flair’s Ring Bearer

The job description of a ring bearer does NOT include the following:

  • Telling Dennis Rodman to remove his well-painted fingernails from the ugly bridesmaid’s rectum.
  • Snorting whiskey from the bottom of an empty beer can with WWE legend The Undertaker.
  • Being taught how to perform a technically sound figure-four leg-lock whilst in slacks by Ric’s daughter, SmackDown Woman’s Champion, Charlotte Flair.
  • Being a cocaine mule for dozens and dozens of aging wrestlers and ex-convicts.

And yet there I was, dressed in my finest suit and novelty socks, sucking down a whiskey in the lobby of the Pearl Hotel in Rosemary Beach, Florida awaiting my good friend Ric’s wedding, where much to my surprise, I would be partaking in each and every one of the aforementioned shenanigans.

Now, I’m sure you are asking yourself, “How in the world does Rob know the one and only, Ric Flair?” And well, to that I say, “Good question, reader!”

The story, believe it or not, is actually quite dull one, though.


I was six years old and at a truck stop in Missouri. My parents had left me on top of a table in the food court and gave me some McDonalds French fries to play with, while they went out back and shot dice with drug addicts and alcoholics, as all good parents do. I was minding my own business, soothing my pain with the salty goodness of friend spuds, when a white-haired, Greek god emerged from the bathroom and started chatting me up. “Call me uncle Ric,” the man said. And from that day forward, Ric Flair and I have been inseparable.

Being Ric’s ring bearer for his 5th wedding was and is one of the biggest honors of my life thus far. That, and the time I got a free McRib at a truck stop in Yakima, Washington after my parents were arrested for indecent exposure. But I think the ring bearer thing wins just by a nose. I was so, so excited about the opportunity to be apart of this holy matrimony, but during the rehearsal dinner I got the feeling that this might not be a typical wedding.

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The series of events at dinner were as follows:

6 pm – Wedding party members arrive to rehearse.

6:10 pm – Dolph Zigger shows up (late) with 14 Asian prostitutes as “party favors.”

6:30 pm – Rehearsal concludes.

6:31 pm – Ric Flair does 3 lines of cocaine, drinks 2 mai tais, ingests a Xanax, and tells his bride to be that he is going to, “Lather her like a Cinnabon and get all up in them gets like a surgeon.”

6:45 pm – Guests are seated for dinner; Dennis Rodman facetimes a North Korean war criminal.

7 pm – Dinner is served; Michael Hayes has a heart attack and collapses into his garlic mashed potatoes.

7:08 pm – Police and medical professionals end the dinner early on account of the disrespect shown to the mashed potatoes.

Then it was wedding time.

The wedding itself was beautiful. Ric’s white tux juxtaposed with his yellow, age-stained hair sent goosebumps gallivanting about my skin. His bride, Wendy, looked absolutely stunning as she stuck her tongue several yards deep into Ric’s windpipe. The Undertaker looked dead as fuck. It was all just magical.

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Now, I don’t want to go into too much detail about the actual ceremonies, as Ric has politely asked that I don’t share the intimacies of the day. But I will say that I did my job as ring bearer, and I did it well. I am very much looking forward to his next wedding. Fingers crossed that I get the call back.

Oh, and please, share in some photos that Ric granted my permission to share:


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