Shortly after my husband and I got officially engaged, we set off to the nearest Starbucks to plan our wedding, armed with a notebook, a checklist his dad had printed off the Internet, and a pile of magazine clippings his mom had been saving since… what year does that one say? 200…2? Had we even met yet?
About 30 minutes later, before we’d even finished our drinks, we were ready to call the whole thing off.
We had already checked a few things off the several-hundred-item list, and had almost come to terms with the daunting fact that we’d have to invite over 250 people because while you can separate friends into 1st, 2nd and 3rd tiers, you can’t just pick and choose the family members you like best: you have to have ALL the aunts, uncles and cousins, or none of them. And if we’re gonna have all those people we might as well have ALL the friends, too. Or at least tiers 1 and 2.
But our fragile confidence in our developing plans shattered when we realized we didn’t know any boys little enough or cute enough to be our ringbearer. Or rather, that we did, but if we were to choose one little boy over another, the political/familial fallout could cause irreparable damage.
“What are we gonna do?” I asked, the sudden realization of this glaring problem threatening to crush all of the hopes and dreams I had been carrying with me for the last two minutes of our conversation.
“I guess we… just won’t have one,” he said after a few moments of frantic internal brainstorming.
“Can we do that?” I asked, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. “How can we just not have a ringbearer?”
“It’s our wedding, isn’t it?” He suggested, tentatively. “Can’t we just… do whatever we want?”
It took a moment of stunned silence for the gravity of these words to set in with both of us.
Whatever… we want?
Whatever… we want?
I think the other patrons of Starbucks might have actually seen the lightbulbs going off above both our heads in unison, as checklists and magazine clippings alike got sent into mental oblivion.
It didn’t take long for us to concoct a decidedly epic plan that would have us getting married four months later on a mountain in the winter, to the tune of 8-bit Super Mario Bros., with an attendee cap of 54 people, and a snowboarding after-party the following day. There’s no reason to let something as silly as a wedding put a damper on your marriage.
This post is dedicated to my dear friend Katelynn, who is having a wedding of her own exactly a month from now to tie the knot with a guy I’ve never met, because they live on the other side of the ocean. Or rather, I do. I’m sorry, Katelynn, to miss the kick-off party of your marriage, but I promise I’ll be “home” one day soon.
Also, happy news! I entered this post into Yeah Write’s weekly writing challenge, and was voted into the top three! Hooray for everything!