My anniversary is either August 26th, 27th, or 28th. Whichever date, I know it’s 2006, so that’s something. I know most women know this, but there is a reason I’m unsure. We set a date, then changed it to get the Joslyn castle at half price (Sundays are cheaper for weddings, everyone). I know people laugh and it’s only the biggest day of your life, spare no expense, yadda yadda, but not in our case. I guess I’m not the most girlish woman in the world. I would’ve preferred to elope. I’m almost positive it’s August 27th, now that I think about it.
Not only did we change the date to save a few hundred bucks, I also decided we didn’t need our cake delivered. So we pulled out all of the shelves in my refrigerator (moved the beer cans to the produce drawers) and placed it inside. The day of the wedding, I held it (unwrapped, of course – otherwise it wouldn’t have fit in the fridge) on my lap while Steve drove us to the castle. On the way there, we saw Bob running. I couldn’t even roll down the window, so he came around to Steve’s side to chat (“I’ll see you there;” the usual bullshit).
We did one day go to look at dresses, but only at rental dresses because I have no idea what women want with it after the ceremony. We skipped the rentals (I’m not picky, but I do have SOME standards) and went to the pet store next door (yes, this is the day we bought Tucker instead of a wedding dress). I ended up buying a wedding dress online while I was supposed to be faxing six BNSF permits. When the wedding dress arrived, it didn’t fit (apparently wedding dresses are a size larger than you are or I was in denial to my actual size). Whatever the case, my mom spent the evening before my wedding ripping out the seams and taking out fabric to squeeze my I-think-I’m-a-size-six body into. (This dress is in a landfill in Illinois now, if you are wondering).
Midnight the night before my wedding, my sister informed me I needed flowers. We went to Baker’s on 120th and Center and bought all the roses and lilies they had. Amber crafted them into centerpieces and a bouquet. The day of the wedding, my maid of honor told me I really should have someone do something with my hair. So after her urging, I decided that is what women should do (but I wasn’t going to get a manicure or pedicure: I’ve been avoiding both of those my entire life).
After the wedding, Steve and I filled our cars up with sound equipment, presents, leftover champagne (who am I kidding – there was none of that), etc. We drove back to my apartment to drop everything off, but not before stopping at Walgreen’s one-hour photo. “Did you really just get married?” the photo developer asked incredulously. It certainly wasn’t Halloween, and I do not wear dresses for any occasion other than this one day. If you know the answer to a question, don’t ask it. “Check out the pictures,” I offered.
After the presents were opened and I was securely back in pants, my new parents took us out to eat at Red Robin where we laughed over the pictures and plotted out our lives as husband and wife (the same life as boyfriend and girlfriend). And people find this wedding stuff stressful.