I remember climbing into Patrick’s pick-up truck in a fog of glittering sparklers. I remember noting that there was a giant penis shoe-polished on to the passenger side window. I remember taking an Instagram of us driving the few blocks back to our hotel. I remember being very excited about getting my shoes off.
And I remember being so, so exhausted. After our wedding, as soon as we got back to the hotel, I put on my tent-iest, most shapeless dress and some comfy Toms, curled up on the couch and said an enthusiastic “Yes!” to my favorite question, which is: Do you want a beer?
We’d stocked up the suite’s fridge with beverages and invited anyone who wanted to after-party with us to stop by post-reception. In the weeks before the wedding, I thought we might have something of a post-wedding rager with all our out-of-town friends and really get to sit down and hang out and talk, the way you really can’t do at a wedding reception.
I was wrong. I was the tiredest, sleepiest person who had just made a lifetime commitment to the man of her dreams ever. I really wanted to see all my old (and new!) friends. I really wanted to hear all about how the second floor of our hotel appeared to be hosting an extremely snazzy dance party. But mainly, I wanted to go to sleep. Keep reading »