Phillip rubs my face before he leaves for work this morning. It might be my favorite thing in the whole world. I fall back asleep and dream of wedding dresses.
I’m in a bowling alley, wearing the huge, poofy, hoop-skirted wedding dress. All my friends are bowling pins with faces.
Somehow, I keep getting pushed down the lane like I’m a bowling ball. I smash into my bowling pin friends with the big skirt and knock them to the ground.
And they are not happy about it.
Pretty soon, all the bowling pins are yelling at me, telling me what a horrible dress I picked, how they hate it, and hate me.
Now, I’m standing above what I think is the pit to hell.
All my bowling pin friends are lying in the pit, all around my feet. They’re moaning, writhing in pain, begging to be let out. When I can’t bend over to help them because the dress is so big, they try to pull me into hell with them.
I wake up with a jerk, feeling a bit depressed, but immediately get to work.
After four hours of online searching, I’ve decided that planning a wedding seems to vary from being the most joyous of experiences to being the biggest suckfest of all time.
And, right now, it’s sucking the life out of me.
Rule number one in all bridal magazines: give yourself a year to plan the perfect wedding.
And here’s another wedding statistic for you.
Most brides are engaged for fifteen months!
Fifteen months!
And we want to do this in, like, three months.
Is that even possible?
I called a bunch of hotels this morning. Asked about a Saturday in December or January. I got a whole lot of, “We’re booked.”
Maybe we should just run off to Vegas and get married by a fake Elvis. I could wear a tacky cheap gown and we could go on the roller coaster later.
No, that’s not what I want. I remember my mom telling me she spent way too much on her wedding dress.
“JJ, that is something you should never skimp on.”
I know her rhinestones, bling, and love of leopard used to bug me, but it was so her. I feel like I shouldn’t be planning my wedding without her. I also know she’d have been pissed to hear me say that. She’d have wanted me to have fun with it.
Then, I think, My mom’s dress! Maybe I could wear it!
I crawl up to the top shelf in my closet, pull the big box down, and try it on.
And laugh.
And laugh some more.
Oh my. This dress is so eighties; it’s almost comical. It has huge, puffy shoulders, full-length mutton sleeves, and is covered with lace and iridescent sequins. I look closer at the fabric and wonder if I could have the dress remade. I really don’t love the lace, so probably not. I’m a little surprised at myself though. I kinda like the sparkle. The little sequins. I bet it looked beautiful when she moved. It kind of reminds me of the dress Phillip got me for our engagement party. I’ve been telling the ladies at the bridal shop that I hate bling, but some of the dresses I’ve tried on have seemed too plain. Maybe I need a little bling.
I’m pretty sure my mom would have liked that.
I call Lori again and ask her to video chat with me. I want her to see that I’m actually miserable and not just faking it.
“Lori, wedding planning sucks. I have no dress. All the places I thought about having the reception are booked, and I can’t decide on a color scheme. I think I’m going crazy.”
“You just need a different approach. Don’t look at this as something you have to do, have to get done. Look at this as, um, a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. You’re taking this incredible trip to Bridalville, and you get to shop—no, wait … search for the coolest thing from each town to bring back to show your friends. You know, the greatest cake, the most gorgeous dress, the funkiest favors, the yummiest food, the coolest cocktail. Whatever you want. How fun is that!”
“Well, that does sound fun,” I say cautiously. “A new approach. Maybe that’s what I need.” I look at her with a shrewd eye. “You’re using this stuff on Danny, aren’t you? Is Danny going to Babyville?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gets a smug look on her face.
“You’ve gotten really good,” I say, complimenting her amazing manipulative skills.
And, well, the conversation works.
I’ve decided to take a new approach.
Screw the theme.
Screw the colors.
I’m going on a search for what I like best, and that’s what I’m going to use.
We’ll throw caution to the wind, say, What the hell, and just let it all fall into place.
We have a new theme for the wedding, and that theme is me!
Say it with me now!
It’s all about me!
Okay, so it’s about Phillip, too, but you know what I mean.
Then, I realize that’s what is missing! I need Phillip. I want his input on all of this. I shouldn’t decide it myself. We should do it together. Although, lately, it seems like every time we talk about anything wedding-related, we end up in bed or, well, somewhere, you know, having a little fun.
Tonight, I’ll take Phillip out for some pizza, and we’ll look through wedding ideas.
Shoot.
That won’t work. I don’t want to drag my laptop and all the crap I’ve torn out of magazines to dinner.
We’ll just order in pizza.
But, if we’re at home, I know what’ll happen. And what will happen will have nothing to do with the wedding. Well, I take that back. Phillip keeps telling me we’re having “rehearsals” for the honeymoon. The honeymoon he is planning but won’t tell me about.
So, I text that boy.
Me: Tonight, I’m just saying no. No sex.
Phillip: Did I do something wrong?
Me: No, but we have a wedding checklist of a million and seven things to do. I’m ordering pizza. We can have a few beers, eat, and look at lots of ideas. See if we can find some we want to use. There will be no fun until we make some serious progress. Deal?
Phillip Baby: Deal. 😉
I thought he was serious until I saw the little winky face.
Me: Phiiilliiip!!! No winking either! I know what that means!
Phillip: Fine. 🙁
Me: No sad faces either. If you want, we don’t have to do any of it. We can just skip the wedding.
Phillip: Can’t wait!!! Looking forward to it!
Me: You’re such a liar. I love you.
Phillip: Love you, too. We’ll find some great ideas tonight, and then we should probably have another honeymoon rehearsal. It’s important we get that right.
When Phillip gets home, he catches me staring into my jewelry box. “What are you looking at?”
“Just my mom and dad’s wedding rings. I feel bad they just sit there. It’s kinda sad.”
I get little tears in my eyes, but I push them back. I’m good at pushing back tears. Well, I used to be. It’s gotten harder to do lately.
Phillip wraps me in his arms, and I forget about being sad, especially when he kisses me.
I drag him out to the couch where we chow on pizza and drink beer. I click through picture after picture of wedding ideas. Phillip decides that, if we see something we both like, we should save it. So, we do. We find a cool menu card we both really like. It’s black-and-white damask, and it has accents of either teal or purple. Since I like both of those, either could work for a color scheme. We both love a huge white tree centerpiece that is dripping with lights, candles, crystals, and flowers. There’s an all-white place setting with a silver snowflake ornament sitting on top. Since we’re getting married in the winter, we both think something like that might be cool. We also save a photo of something I get really excited about. It’s the cutest cocktail table that’s covered in a black-and-white-damask tablecloth and tied with black ribbon at the base. It has a small purple floral arrangement and votive candles on top of it.
“Let’s click back through everything we’ve saved,” Phillip says.
I click back through. “Well, we seem to really like black and white. Should we do that and then accent with either purple or teal?”
“That sounds like a plan,” he says.
“I was thinking I’d like to have everything all in one place. I’d like to go from ceremony to cocktail hour to reception to after-party without having to drive.”
“Would that mean we wouldn’t get married at the church?”
“Yeah,” I say sneakily.
That way, I don’t have to worry about Pastor John. We’ll just find someone random on the internet or something. Or invite a judge. I bet Mr. Diamond knows a judge. He’s an attorney; he should.
“Especially since it’ll probably be snowy and cold. If we can do it all at the hotel, I think it would be nicer. I mean, if we can find a hotel. I haven’t had much luck with that yet.”
Phillip closes my laptop, sets it on the coffee table, and kisses me. “You’re lucky. We’ll find somewhere.”
“Speaking of getting lucky,” I say with a smirk.
Phillip smacks my butt as he follows me into the bedroom.
