So have you noticed that I haven’t written this column in awhile? That’s because it’s going monthly. Planning a wedding is not that action-packed, to be honest! Especially when you haven’t actually started planning it yet — well, to be fair, we are waiting to hear back on a particular location. If that gets secured, I will actually start working on the other details.
But just because my reply to the nearly daily question, “How’s the wedding planning coming along?” is “What wedding planning?”, doesn’t mean I still don’t have plenty to say about being engaged. And I have determined in the last six months that the easiest way to determine if you’re ready to marry someone, the easiest way to make sure that this person is the right one to spend forever with, is if you can tolerate all the things about them that annoy you. Because fiances are still annoying. Keep reading »
In my opinion, getting married as a religious person is much easier than getting married as an Atheist or an Agnostic because deciding who is going to officiate the ceremony is so filled with confusion, it would just be simpler to say, “Well I guess Father Tom will take care of business.”
I am not religious. I don’t not believe in something bigger than, you know, this life, but I just haven’t decided how God figures into that yet. I also don’t understand this need for people to know what happens after we die — whether we rot into the soil or go to heaven and have sex with virgins — because how can you be sure about either and also? Isn’t it kind of exciting not knowing? Keep reading »
One of the things I finally realized about ten months ago — four months before I got engaged — is that one of the main reasons why getting married freaked me out so much, why I always labeled myself “not really a marriage person”, is that it brought up a very difficult problem. Do I invite my dad?
My dad and I aren’t really close, which really isn’t that unusual of an issue for people — but we’re more than just “not close”. Without airing too much of his dirty laundry — and inspiring an unhappy phone call later this evening — I can explain that while I was in college, my dad made some choices that resulted in losing his job, ending relationships with most of his friends, and breaking up his marriage to my mom. Needless to say, our relationship, which had once been very close, was damaged as well, and because he didn’t exactly quickly rebound, apologize, and get his act together (really, still kind of waiting on that), a lot of time passed before I could even consider forgiving him. And I’m pretty sure there’s not enough time in the world to make inviting him to my wedding — let alone playing an integral part — a pleasant option. Keep reading »
As I said in a previous column, I have anxiety about people having fun and getting along, not just at my wedding, but in life. I’m a little uptight, to say the least. I worry terribly about what people close to me think — though I don’t care too much what people who don’t know me think (for example, yesterday I was wearing a dress which just exposed a teeny bit of my albeit lacy bra, and the only people whose opinion about that I was concerned with were my coworkers, not, like, the lady who makes my salad at Au Bon Pain). I really want everyone to have a blast at my wedding, but this whole engagement situation has brought up another issue that is causing me some anxiety — having M.’s parents meet mine. The whole notion gives me such butterflies, you’d think my parents and his parents were horrible freaks that should never mesh. That’s hardly true, of course. I’m going to have to get over this neurosis soon, because it’s about time everyone meets — our families are about to be blended, after all. Keep reading »
I’ve been reading this book I Was Told There’d Be Cake, a collection of personal essays by Sloane Crosley, for the last few months. Though I think the book, in general, is a little “try too hard”, there’s one story in particular that really struck a chord with me. “You On A Stick” is about the time that Sloane’s best friend from her youth called her up out of the blue, after not having spoken for years, and asked her to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. The essay ends up being about a lot of issues associated with being a bridesmaid — from the mundane and annoying tasks associated with the duty, like making a veil out of wrapping paper at the bridal shower, to the more serious issue of female friendships and what they mean. The latter hit home for me though — for the record, my bridesmaids will never have to make an asinine hat for me out of ribbons unless they put a gun to my head and force me to wear one — because I’ve been having a really hard time with this particular part of getting married. Keep reading »
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. Keep reading »