Last night, my husband (!) Patrick and I were having Hawaiian martinis at Roy’s Waikoloa Bar & Grill (which is to Hawaii the way Chili’s is to Texas) when he asked me, Was it all worth it? Was all the stress and the arguing and the pressure worth it, to have a wedding instead of sneaking down to the courthouse or eloping to Las Vegas?
I had my answer ready, because I’d been thinking on it since we drove back to our hotel in a pick-up truck covered in dicks on Saturday night. My answer was: yes. All of the bullshit and the pressure and the stress was completely worth the experience of being married in front of all of our closest family and friends. Keep reading »
Congratulations, you’re engaged! But approximately 10 seconds after the ring has been placed on your finger, the interrogation from family, friends and coworkers begins: Have you found a dress? Religious or non-religious? How many bridesmaids? Where’s the bachelorette party? How about the honeymoon? How many people are you inviting?
And the biggest one of all: So, have you set a date?
The answer to that question is “No, not yet!” in the new romantic comedy “The Five-Year Engagement.” Tom and Violet, played by Jason Segel and Emily Blunt, find their engagement extended … and extended … and extended after they relocate to Michigan for Violet’s job. But why are long engagements so frowned upon anyway? There are plenty of perfectly good reasons for not rushing to the altar. Here are 10 off the top of our heads… Keep reading »
“It’s a strange thing that before you marry that it’s a custom to give a girl a rock. When you’re married, you should get the rock, and when you get engaged, you should get a simple band. It just seems like the engagement is weaker, so it should be the band, and when you get to the wedding, that’s the rock. It should be the reverse with the rings. People break up their engagements all the time, and then the guy loses the rock. It’s not fair to the man. The woman should stick it through to the end to get the rock. Of course, the real prize is the love.”
–Leelee Sobieski, at the premiere of “The Five Year Engagement,” on how she’d rearrange the whole marriage ritual if she could. Sobieski is married to the father of her daughter Louisanna, fashion designer Adam Kimmel. Makes sense to me. [NYMag.com]
The next time y’all read a Hitched column, I’ll be a married person! It’s been a long, strange journey since Patrick and I got drunk at the lake last September and decided to get engaged. But there has been no stranger time than the last couple of weeks, when the Wedding Crazy moved into my brain like that stupid Mucinex chest-booger moves into gunky animated lungs.
I prided myself on not being the crazy bride — especially since I realized very early into our wedding planning that the actual process of wedding planning makes me a nervous wreck. I let Patrick take the reins and stuck with logistical issues and large concepts and buying three different pairs of wedding shoes because fuck it, if you are going to go bridezilla, at least go bridezilla with some shit you can use more than one day out of your life. Keep reading »
A couple of years ago, we told you about Jessica Vega, the New York woman who lied about having leukemia — to her own fiance even — in order to score a free wedding. Her husband, Michael O’Connell, felt that something about Vega’s claim of incurable cancer didn’t smell quite right, and ratted her out, filing for divorce just three months after their nuptials. Well, this week, Vega was finally indicted on charges of fraud and grand larceny for faking the whole thing.
Keep reading »
I’ve always prized the uniqueness of my first name. Pronunciation is lost but the singularity is worth the explanations and corrections during introductions. After my wife Olivia and I were married last August, I was excited about the opportunity to conceive a new last name together. We knew that the hyphenation of our last names to Hoselton-Hopkins was too clumsy and conjoining them into a new name, Hopelton or Hoselkin, was even worse.
“But Andie, it’s your last chance at freedom!”
This is what my father told me when I informed him that I wouldn’t have a bachelorette party, and instead would go camping with Patrick and all our best Texas friends.
My dad was disappointed that his daughter wouldn’t be vomiting behind a strip club at 3 a.m. But I just got back from a wonderful camping weekend, and I’m confident in saying that I don’t feel any less “free” for opting not to spend a few hours in close proximity to a banana thong. Keep reading »
On Saturday morning, Patrick and I were enjoying some delicious breakfast tacos when I got the greatest e-mail of my life from Susan, my person of honor at our wedding: in the next week, we should be watching the mail for the trampoline the wedding party bought us.
Yeah, you read that right: the trampoline the wedding party bought us! Tramp! O! Line!
I could hardly contain my excitement. I read and re-read the email over and over again. I envisioned the giant trampoline in our backyard, and the afternoons we’d spend sunning and jumping on it, and how our backyard parties were about to get approximately a million percent more fun, and how oh my God, we are going to have a trampoline!
Because of course we put a trampoline on our wedding registry. Why not put a trampoline on your wedding registry, if you have the choice between not putting a trampoline on your wedding registry and putting a trampoline on your wedding registry? Keep reading »
The State of Texas, beautiful and God-blessed land led by the white conservative men Jesus always intended it to be led by, rewards people who go to premarital counseling. The prize? You get to waive your license fee and don’t have a three-day waiting period between obtaining the license and getting married.
I discovered this fun new law while checking out marriage licenses generally, and learned that as of March 1, 2011, Texans getting married can either pay an increased fee for a license or get their asses to a counselor for an eight-hour course that will allow them to waive it.
The program is called, barfily enough, Twogether in Texas. I figured hey, if we can waive the fee and get counseling, that might be kind of cool. Of course, it’ll have to be free counseling because otherwise, there’s no money saved in waiving the fee. And we’re sure not paying a stranger hundreds of dollars to tell us we love each other and agree on major life issues like children (not for us, thanks), money (let’s make a reasonable amount of it and share it with each other) and religion (we’ll pass). Duh. That’s why we’re getting married. Keep reading »
It sure doesn’t come as surprise to me that I’m getting married in a few weeks. After all, there was much to be done after we got drunk at the lake last Labor Day Weekend and decided to get married.
Patrick and I rented a venue, sent out save the dates and invitations, built a barfy-adorable “wed-site,” argued with our parents over the guest list, told grown-ass adults what kind of clothes to wear, created wedding registries and asked guests to donate to marriage equality organizations if they liked that instead, bought tablecloths, and arranged for a colleague to officiate the ceremony. I bought a dress, shoes, some really fun underpants and got my hair colored. All signs point to: wedding.
But I don’t think I realized I was actually getting married until I went with Patrick to get a custom shirt made for his wedding outfit. Why? Because that shirt cost more than my dress. Keep reading »