Wedding Bell Blues
This weekend, I attended the wedding of a high school friend. Putting aside the fact that marrying at twenty-one seems ludicrous to me and exactly how awkward it was to be one of only three guests from our graduating class (and the only female)*, I realized something interesting:I want to have a wedding.
No, I have no desire to be married yet. I need to find someone that I can stand to be around for more than a few hours before that happens. Hell, forget that, I just need to find someone that I can be comfortable sharing my bed with.** however, the idea of planning a wedding and being the bride—basically a princess for a day—is very appealing.
I want all of the moments that lead up to it. I want a romantic proposal with a two-carat,
princess-cut diamond solitaire (set in platinum, of course). I want a bachelorette party full of friends, margaritas, and laughter. I want to choose my wedding party and plan a wintry, sparkly New Year’s Eve wedding. I want a wedding planner, dress fittings, cake tastings, and the opportunity to choose my ideal style of veil. I want a white dress with beading and crystals, a tasteful train, fitted bodice, and flatteringly flared skirt. I want my wedding party dressed in deep, rich red, carrying small bouquets of white roses, and the groomsmen with gunmetal gray vests and red roses in their lapels. I want my mom in clothes she’ll love: black pants and a red button-down shirt. I want to walk down the aisle to the wedding march, holding my dad’s arm and a bouquet of red roses as all of my friends and family watch me, the radiant bride.I want to leave the church under showers of sparkling fake snow—and if it’s really snowing, all the better. I want a fun reception, whether it’s formal or casual. I want to toast with sweet champagne—because I don’t enjoy fancy dry champagne—drunk out of crystal flutes with our wrists intertwined. I want to cut the cake—oh, the cake. I haven’t decided on the specifics, but it
will be multi-tiered, it will be winter white brushed with iridescent powder, and it may or may not have roses on it. I do know that it won’t be chocolate, it will be delicious, and the top tier will be frozen for our first anniversary.Once we finish the stiff, deliberate things, the reception will be a big party with candles and music and dancing. A dollar dance, a father-daughter dance, the maid of honor and best man getting tipsy and doing a dance bordering on inappropriate.
I want to toss a bouquet (of course, not my ceremony bouquet, but a smaller, sturdier one) and watch Bradshaw step away while my other friends tussle over it. My new husband will pull off my garter, trimmed in red rather than blue. I want to watch the ring bearer fall asleep at the table just before midnight, and at midnight there will be a countdown, kisses, toasts, and then we, the happy couple, will leave the party for our honeymoon—which, no doubt, will be somewhere tropical and relaxing.
So who is the man in my nuptual fantasy? At the moment, it's Kasey Kahne, but that changes pretty regularly and includes Brad Pitt, who is old enough to be my father, and the ever-delicious Matt Czuchry
At this point in my life, these ideas are simply party plans, plans that neglect to focus on the actual importance of the party—the marriage and the life together that comes after the honeymoon is over. I am mature enough to recognize these and I’m certainly not ready to be married. I’m having fun being single, not to mention all the issues I have left over from quasi-relationships past. I’m fairly certain that I’m not alone in my desire to plan and have this big party while ignoring the inevitable aftermath. Rampant divorce rates may be partially attributed to this. But hey, a girl can dream, right?
*This was awkward, especially considering that one of the guys in attendance was the bride’s ex-boyfriend. I didn’t realize that I was her only close friend from high school—especially considering that I never really thought of her as a close friend.
**Get your mind out of the gutter, I mean sleeping. I hate it when people watch me sleep, therefore I can’t sleep around someone that I don’t trust fairly well.
At this point in my life, these ideas are simply party plans, plans that neglect to focus on the actual importance of the party—the marriage and the life together that comes after the honeymoon is over. I am mature enough to recognize these and I’m certainly not ready to be married. I’m having fun being single, not to mention all the issues I have left over from quasi-relationships past. I’m fairly certain that I’m not alone in my desire to plan and have this big party while ignoring the inevitable aftermath. Rampant divorce rates may be partially attributed to this. But hey, a girl can dream, right?
*This was awkward, especially considering that one of the guys in attendance was the bride’s ex-boyfriend. I didn’t realize that I was her only close friend from high school—especially considering that I never really thought of her as a close friend.
**Get your mind out of the gutter, I mean sleeping. I hate it when people watch me sleep, therefore I can’t sleep around someone that I don’t trust fairly well.
***Kudos to whoever can cite the source of this post's title.
Labels: everyday musings, my insanity
posted by nicalyse @ 11:34 PM
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