Since I was a little girl I had been squirreling away hopes and dreams for my wedding day into a pink bubble of magical intentions. My handsome Prince would love and cherish me 'til death do us part.
Truth be told, my wedding day should have been a tell tale sign of things to come...
It all began when my soon-to-be husband expressed his dislike of events that included frills, fluff and anything else that reminded him of a wedding.
Note to self: If a guy doesn't want a wedding, he probably doesn't want to get married!
I guess I could find a way to compromise and keep the frills to a minimum. After all, negotiating with the man I would be spending the rest of my life with would be good practice. On the other hand, accommodating my family was a whole different basket of wilted rose petals. My mother suggested that my sister be in charge of planning my wedding.
Sibling rivalry never dissipated between us, so having her plan my wedding was out of the question. After letting my mother know this, her Mommy Dearest personality began to shine like an Oscar during awards season. My special day was slowly spiraling into a nightmare.
Trying to find a way to make everyone happy, except me, I suggested we marry in Aspen underneath the snowflakes of winter with only our mothers present. I thereby removed the fluff and the festivities leaving us with the justice of the peace, two mothers, a wedding license and a fiancé who looked like he was about to commit harakiri. I never sent out invitations or registered at a fancy department store, I didn't even try on pretty gowns or have white rice thrown at me. Instead, I went to the mall and picked out a simple white dress that cost me less then a cup of coffee and a donut. No bridesmaids, no bridal shower, no gifts... On the bright side... I was getting married and soon I would be forever attached to the man who would be my husband... forever... and ever... and ever...
On the day of our nuptials, my mother's flight arrived and we silently watched as all the passengers disembarked from the aircraft. My heart bubbled into my throat when I realized she was not on the plane. Agonizingly, we waited for the next flight to land. By this point my fiancé was silently brooding and I was near tears. Waiting for the flight to unload, I could feel my skin weeping sweat for fear of her not being on the flight. When I finally saw her, my emotions were exhausted and bittersweet. Sweeping aside my frustration I focused on the days events and we all shuttled back to prepare for the evening.
I put on my dime store dress along with my ivory satin pumps and a big winter jacket to repel the cold air. The four of us arrived at the bed and breakfast where we had reserved the parlor to hold our ceremony. The fifty-dollar per hour justice of the peace was waiting for us in the lobby. Nervously, we stood around the Christmas tree where we exchanged our vows. The moment I said:
"Till death do us part... "
I heard a tiny voice inside of me say:
"One day, you will divorce this man..."
Ignoring the whisper, I kissed my husband and instantly felt a burning sensation deep in my heart.
Taking a sleigh ride up the mountain for our wedding dinner I sang Jingle Bells at the top of my lungs. No one, including my newly anointed husband, joined me in caroling. I didn't care, because I was now a married lady and my private joy was enough for me. After feasting on a bounty of winter food we headed back to a crackling fireplace in our hotel room where we would kick off our new lives as husband and wife. I began to feel queasy and was no longer in a position to hug my husband as I had imagined. Instead, I was hugging the toilet for hours until we rushed to the ER. Wailing and upchucking wasn't the kind of moaning I was hoping for on my wedding night. Instead, I was pumped full of drugs and released into the cold. The situation was too much to bear for us both, so we decided to go home. So much for a honeymoon...
Years later, divorce was imminent (no surprise there) but my fantasy of a wedding and the perfect marriage, well, it still lives on. Marriage is a rite of passage for every bride and she should never compromise on her special day. Maybe the fantasy of a perfect wedding is just that, a fantasy, built on an extravagant and unrestrained imagination of a young bride...
Who knows, one day I may even marry again, only this time, my dress will have a little frill on it and my wedding cake will have a lot of fluff.
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