Time Out

It’s been a couple weeks since I last posted in this blog and a lot of wedding related things have happened.

1. We booked a photographer, only to not make our deposit in time so we lost said photographer.
2. Said photographer gave us a list of recommended photographers-one of which we ended up booking, deposit, contract and all.
3. We got our hotel block booked at this place that is a half hour away from our venue but like right near the ocean. I love New Jersey and I mean that with my whole heart.
4. I scheduled a couple dress appointments WHILE MY BEST FRIEND IS IN TOWN.
5. The Orange Warriors had an estate sale fund raiser, and we got our center piece mason jars from there.
6. I had a conversation with my step mom about the honeymoon which was really a lot of me saying “I don’t know” and talking about monies.
7. I joined a bunch of wedding related Facebook groups only to be even more overwhelmed than I had been originally.
8. I cried a lot.

I cried because I have never even THOUGHT about wedding day programs for guests. I cried because I don’t own enough white to determine whether or not I look good in it. I cried because how I was always a person that got stressed out over silly little things and this wedding is a play ground for that kind of relentless mental tomfoolery.

So I took a time out. I reckon that doing this the first few minutes into the game doesn’t look good on my part but I needed it, and gone are the days when I’m not honest with myself about what my personal needs are.

I’m back though, and that’s what’s important-tears and all.

 

If You Can’t Be Classy, Be Trashy On Purpose

The idea of an engagement party came to me when I was Googling something about first things to do after you get engaged and that was one of the things listed. I didn’t take time to read the actual articles about engagement parties, but if I had, I probably wouldn’t have suggested it. The thing is with anything involving a wedding, there is some type of rule attached to it. There’s a rule for who pays for what, and a rule about invitations and a rule about attire and food etc. It’s all too much, especially for two people who are not traditional by any stretch of the imagination. So like all things with B and I, we’re doing it our own way.

Theme: Hey We’re Engaged, Let’s Drink!

Location: Our Home!

Decorations: A clean house, residual cat hair

What We’re Serving: Miller Highlife, wings, veggie platter, tortilla chips and salsa, ruffle chips and dip, (pizza if more food is needed)

Responsibility of Guests: Transport, BYOB

Duration: Whenever people feel like going home

Who’s Invited: Most of the people we know in Chicago and it’s surrounding area. We’re planning on having a “couldn’t invite you to our actual wedding but here’s the sort of Chicago version of the reception” party after we get married. Anyone invited to our engagement party is invited to that too.

How We Invited People: Word of mouth and Facebook.

If you’re thinking this kinda sounds like a slightly fancier version of a frat party, you’d be correct, but to quote B, “If you can’t be classy, be trashy on purpose.” Also, we’re stoked to be engaged and with only a small budget for the wedding, the last thing we need is to blow a chunk of those funds on another party.

Never the less, we’re very excited. The point of these kinds of things is to celebrate your love with the other people you love right? I’ll let you know how it goes.

Bandwidth Exceeded

I’m trying to think of an appropriate analogy to how insufferable spending hours a day planning an event that exceeds your girliness bandwidth is, and all I’m coming up with are Canucks fans in 2o11, or Blackhawks fans since 2010.

What I’m saying is that I know it will all be worth it as the day draws closer, but right now it just makes me want a consistent IV of hard liquor, and I don’t EVEN DRINK hard liquor.

So what exactly is my problem? Let me break it down for you in a list.

Rational Things That Are Insufferable About Planning a Wedding:

1- Champagne taste, beer budget-or having funds be a factor

2- Having to look at “mother of the bride” shit, and being in-my-face reminded that mine has been dead for 4 years.

Irrational Things That Are Insufferable About Planning A Wedding:

1. Having to hear anything about a beauty regimen and having people tell me I should consider one.
2. Reading “advice” columns about planning a wedding and having an existential crisis about being the same sex and species as the people that wrote them.
3. Hearing the term “wife” and thinking about the 1950’s vision of married life.
4. Finding out that many of these columns still abide by that idea.
5. The notion of me having to touch a stove other than to clean it, and to actually want to touch a stove other than to clean it. (B feeds us. That’s his job.) Apparently this will change once B and I are married? That’s cute.
6. Flowers.  They’re colorful and require water and sunlight. That’s all I know about them. “What flowers do you want for your centerpieces?” “Uhh Bone Thugs and Harmoniums?”
7. THE DRESS. I cried because I got stressed out about maybe never finding a dress and then I got mad at myself because I fed into the wedding-stress bullshit and it got me dammit, it got me!
8. Wedding websites- why are they so fancy? Can’t I just have a random page with an outline of organized info. I love lists, can you tell?
9. Seating charts-the perfect lie you tell yourself that being at a different table is going to keep your father and aunt, who are both wine drunk, from arguing about the color of the sky.
10. All the fucking “shoulds.” YOU SHOULD WHERE WHITE. YOU SHOULD BOOK THIS THING AT THIS TIME. YOU SHOULD WEAR SOMETHING BLUE. You should stop fucking telling me what to do with my life. This a big-ass fancy party, not some fucking covert ops mission in Call of Duty. A  lot of variables can still produce similar results, even if I don’t say yes to a dress that costs five thousand dollars.

I’m sure they’re are more. I’ve temporarily stopped wearing my contacts to counterbalance the headaches I’ve been getting from rolling my eyes so much. I’ve also started breaking it down in small pieces to the point where I’ve actually blocked out dates on my Google calendar where I’m not allowed to do anything involving the wedding. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but I’m using my sense of entitled anti-femininity, in part, as a way to mask how incredibly worried I am that this day will be less sunshine and kittens and more fire and brimstone.

My jig is up readers. You really didn’t think I was oblivious did you?  At the same time, not one thing I mentioned previously was about my future husband. We must be doing something right.

 

Game On

“I wanna marry you!” I blurted out to my then-boyfriend B, as I drunkenly got into his car following a memorial day party at his co-workers house. He sits down in the driver’s side, with a mix of surprise and confusion on his face.

“Like now?” He asked me.

“I dunno, ” I replied nonchalantly, “But definitely someday.”

He straightens his posture and puts the car into drive.

“Why?”

What followed was a monologue that would have made even Ted Mosby cringe in cheesiness, but B smiled, grabbed my hand and kissed it.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

***

I am very good at doing the right things incorrectly, or  getting to a destination in the most ass-backwards way. I am a “two wrongs don’t make a right but three lefts do” kind of girl. I don’t like talking about important things unless I have the courage of alcohol. At the time of my confession, B and I had been dating maybe 6 months, we were serious for 4 of those, and living together about as long. He welcomes my crazy lovingly, as though it were a parent and he’s the child waiting for it to come home. Because of this, as with most things involving me- he just went with it.

A month in a half later, he proposed to me with a ring I picked out, in our backyard as he was grilling us dinner. It was cloudy outside but the blue-green of his eyes shined all the light in the world. I said yes, effortlessly.

***

With the joy of a new engagement comes the harrowing task of planning a wedding. I say harrowing because nothing frustrates me more than having no idea what I’m doing, and I literally have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Every place I look online and every person I talk to says something completely different which adds even more anxiety to this already anxious person. I don’t know too many people well versed in marriage, or weddings etc-so the whole process is alienating. Furthermore, the wedding industry is pink-ified, meaning that much of it is geared to a more feminine type of woman, who is wonderful and great in her own right, but isn’t me.

So what’s a lady to do?

Drink.

And write about it in hopes of making the experience a little less painful and a little more endearing.

Offsides, because I always enter the zone before the puck does. Bride because of B.

Welcome to the crazy. Game on.