The Wedding Chronic, What?, Cles of Gravy Train

The Ceremony Shot

Alternate title for this post: Pull Up a Chair Kids It's Gonna Be a Long One

You know it is funny, I actually don’t remember much leading up to my wedding except 2-3 hour workouts coupled with 12 hour work days and very little sleep. The stuff that I do remember are little snippets here and there sort of like a bad 80’s montage without the bad, yet oh-so-good, 80’s music to accompany it*. The randomness that I do recall is going to get my marriage license with my husband’s non-English speaking Scandinavian family in tow only to find out I had an expired driver’s license** and thus could not get a marriage paperwork done until I brought my passport. I recall forgetting my wedding dress at home and having to make the trek back home with Vicky B to get it. I recall getting ready in the morning and then dragging D all over downtown San Jose whilst I tried to find a drug store with an open pharmacy store. I recall getting ready with the girls and then taking pictures outside and then being at the church with an extreme case of nerves whilst the best man tried to calm me down outside the church as he fixed my hair and told me repeatedly that I looked pretty so I would not cry and ruin my make-up.

I also recall walking down the aisle with my parents and seeing Xtain standing there with a grin ear-to-ear and knowing that things would be better because he was there. I recall giggling the entire ceremony and hoping that the SJ Earthquakes (who were playing on the soccer field on campus) would win. I recall listening to nonsensical rap on the party bus back to the reception and laughing and having a great time. I recall is getting to the reception being shocked by how many people were there and then everything else is a blur of hellos, food, wine, music and art. The last thing I recall is getting back to our room that was covered in rose petals and streamers (pink of course) with a Baby Jesus* stamp on our bed and a bottle of Ace of Spades chilling on the night stand.

What I do remember fully, in every little detail, is the day after the wedding: it was the only time in my short married life that I actually felt married. As usual, we had a going away brunch for the bridal party and many of our out of town guests and I wore a white summer dress (in late October if you can believe that…God, I love San Jose) that I found ironic. As everyone wrapped up their post party meals my parents walked me to my hotel room made to keep me company until Xtian returned from taking his parents to our loft. When he returned, my parents bade their good-byes and left. And that is when it hit me…I was now a married person, for like ever. I no longer belonged to my parents or to myself even, but I belong to this man who not even five years ago had been a total stranger to me. My home was no longer my parents’ house in which I had freeloaded for 30 years (minus the time in my sorority house) but it was this loft in the city with this strange man who was now my husband. There was this odd moment of silence as we sat in the living room of our bridal suite soaking in the reality of our nuptials. The “I Dos” we had shared not even 12 hours earlier had pretty much said it all and in the end I guess there was really nothing left to discuss. Just us…left to be a married couple.

After a long pause, Xtian picked up the phone and called the spa to book a couple’s massage for “my wife and I” and I have to say I felt a little awkward at the sound of the word wife – like we were two kids pretending to be grown-ups. We went down to the spa and the hotel had already prepared a lovely and romantic treatment for us and I can just remember thinking two things…oh my gawd these people know that we like did it**** and oh my gawd I can’t believe I am married. After our massage we headed out to the hotel pool and just chatted about life like we used to before the wedding consumed our nightly conversations. Then the afternoon turned to night and we headed back inside so that we could again make the trek to my parents house so that I could pick up my honeymoon luggage. As I packed up my clothes in my childhood room a great sense of nostalgia came over me and I felt like a stranger in my own house. When had this little girl, with her curly brown locks and her love of boy bands, grown up? Would I make a good wife or was I doomed to repeat the mistakes of my generation who had made marriage a taken-for-granted commodity? Would all of my shoes fit in my new closets? Once I was done packing we headed back to the hotel as we had early honeymoon flights to take the next day. We got back to our room, crawled into bed and for the first night in a long time I stopped over thinking everything and finally slept – being at peace with the new married me.

This post is dedicated to my wonderful bridesmaids who gave me the best parties ever, kept me sane with many a late night chats, kept me away from ledges when I got a little too crazy and delusional, and when all else failed kept me drunk with the best vodka and champagne money could buy.

*If I were to insert a song here, it would be Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benetar…because that song ROCKS.
**insn’t the DMV supposed to send you a letter…as much as I like starting at my much thinner, much tanner and much blonder self on my driver’s license…I don’t check the expiry date
***So I am a big fan of having religious paraphanillia everywhere I go so that God can protect me. A practice that has boggled Xtian for many years (in fact, if you watch the movie Fools Rush In, in is pretty much us to a T minus the baby drama, shot-gun wedding and waspy family on his end…but that is an entirely different post all together ).
****Sorry for the TMI, but no matter your sexual history prior to marriage I have to say there is something about newlyweds that just makes you think ching.