This weekend’s column is not so much a plea to get away from my family as much as it’s a plea to go somewhere with my family.

More specifically, I want to go to a wedding.

For the past 18 years, because the Mirror had a Sunday publication, there was a good bet that I was always working Saturday nights, which meant there were a lot of weddings of family and friends that I was unable to attend.

I would hear from my wife, family or friends about how wonderful they were, and I got jealous sometimes.

My wife would call me and tell me how great the food was, how much fun they were having, and this and that person asking where I was.

But now that my family gets to have me at home every Saturday, there’s been no weddings.

We can blame the pandemic for last year, but now that things are getting back to normal, I would like to do something abnormal and tell you that my address and phone number are published. Heck, nowadays, they’re probably online, too. Give me a ring.

I have 11 nieces and nephews, three of whom are married, so they are off the hook. There are five of them who are under the age of 19, so they, too, are in the clear, though it is never too early to start planning. Forget about SATs, think wedding planner.

The way places get booked early, there’s no reason why you can’t secure a spot for say, 2032, somewhere between Pittsburgh and Hollidaysburg. There are three left who are grownups, and I just want you guys to know that I give good gifts.

I am also fun at weddings, too. Hire a DJ? I always suggest fun songs from the 1980s. Karaoke? Ask Brent Frank, Bishop Guilfoyle Class of 1983, how good I am at singing tunes by Rick Springfield and America.

I have cousins who are eligible to get married, too, so I am here to tell you I will not discriminate. I want someone to invite me to The Casino at Lakemont Park, the Bavarian Hall, the UVA or an outdoor wedding. Someone told me there are farms in Blair County that now host weddings.

My wife grew up on a farm. I could do a farm. I can make mud boots and dress slacks work.

And not to sound arrogant — which usually means I’m about to type something arrogant — I lived 15 years in Mifflin County, where I am told that my column still appears on the internet every now and then. Surely someone must have liked me enough to now have grown kids who are getting married, who would welcome an old sportswriter to town for an afternoon.

Again, nice gifts, fun guy.

My one problem could be dress clothes. I just don’t have enough of them. I have one suit, which I have worn only twice in the last 10 years — a Hall of Fame football ceremony for my brother and my mom’s funeral, so there is not a lot of wear-and-tear on it.

After 12 years of Catholic education ended in 1983, I swore I would not dress up ever again, which meant four years of sweatpants at Penn State and on into adulthood.

But ask my wife: I clean up really well when I get the chance.

And if you worry about seating arrangements, you can put Ann Marie and me in the back. We will be happy just to be there, and as I’ve written in past columns, none of my kids want to hang out with me, so we will count only as two on your guest list.

So just remember, your Saturdays in July are the 3rd, 10th, 17th, 24th and 31st. The first Saturday in August is the 7th. You guys take it from there, and here’s hoping I’ll see you on the dance floor.

Scott Franco, a sports copy editor, writes a monthly column for the Mirror.