My husband and I are married not because I said, “I do,” but because he said, “I’ll do it.”
Last year, when Jay got on one knee in Battery Park in Manhattan and proposed, I accepted and realized I was filled with joy—at the prospect of spending the rest of my life with him—then panic, associated with the idea of becoming a bride.
We were eight years into our monogamous relationship, so I wasn’t a commitment-phobe, but the thought of donning a big white dress and playing the lead role in a family-filled wedding drama inspired a tsunami of anxiety I couldn’t quell.
So after saying yes, I said, “Let’s elope!” trying to make it sound bright, shiny and enticing. To my frustration, his response was, “No way!”
I threw my hands in the air and issued my challenge: “Fine. You’re planning this thing.” Read more …