So I’m Engaged: Laziest Wedding Planners EVER

I was the kind of kid who never had my friends over to my house to play or for sleepovers because I would get really stressed out about entertaining them and making sure they had a good time. Even now I sort of dread having overnight guests or visitors from out of town—even my own family!—not because I don’t, like, love them and want to see them, but because I get serious anxiety over making sure they have THE BEST TIME EVER. I have a birthday party every year, sure, but do not for a second doubt that I have a knot in my stomach about people showing up until I get good and drunk. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that I have loads of anxiety about planning a wedding that is both friggin’ awesome for me and the feef, but for our guests as well. So why not elope and save myself the gray hairs and crippling anxiety? Because I truly want to have a huge bash surrounded by our friends and family; I want to wear a pretty dress I will never wear again; I want a professional photographer to take our picture and airbrush out the three zits on my face that never go away; I want to have the kind of party that really embodies who the feef and I are.

I want to have a wedding, damn it. There. I said it.

With all of that said, we have done absolutely nothing to plan our wedding. Mind you, we’re getting married next May or June (we haven’t even picked a date, obviously) so it’s not like it’s red alert time, but the two bridal magazines I bought and then promptly threw away said that you’re supposed to start planning where and when and how and with what accoutrements, like 16 months in advance. In other words, we are getting a late start, at least according to the Wedding Gods. First thing to decide? Location. Without knowing where we’re getting married, we can’t decide the attire, we can’t decide which of our family and friends to invite, and we can’t decide who is going to be in this thing called “the bridal party”—i.e. the poor friends I sucker into taking care of me when I have panic attacks.

That’s not to say I haven’t been thinking about minor details in the last few months, despite not having any clue where the whole event is going down and with who in attendance. Just last night I came up with the brilliant idea of having a neon sign spelling out our names behind the alter. How awesome would that be? As a music nerd, I have been thinking about what songs I want to memorialize the occasion—currently I’m thinking about Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend”, Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day”, and Van Morrison’s “Into The Mystic”. Eggplant purple is my favorite color so that’s gonna be everywhere—do you think they make eggplant purple neon signs? And the whole reason we’re going to get married in May or June is because that’s when peonies are in season. I am literally (not) planning my wedding around when I can get my favorite flowers for cheap. Oh, and I want one of those vintage photo booths. Isn’t that enough to have figured out?

Guess not. Initially we were being really romantical and thinking about getting married in Italy, because we’re both crazy Italianophiles. But with the Euro to Dollar ratio TOTALLY SUCKING, that’s just not feasible. So the new plan is New York. It’s where we met. It’s where we live. It’s close enough that everyone we love can make it. It’s far enough away that the people we have to invite but don’t like, probably can’t come. But knowing we’re going to do this thing in NYC isn’t enough. We have to pick an actual place and since New York has bajillions of wedding spaces, our search for where is far from over. But one thing has been solved with this little decision—our dog Lucca is totally invited.