We’d gone to bed the night before the wedding feeling broken and demoralized, and when I woke up around seven on the day of our wedding I felt… pretty much the same. The morning was wrapped in a thick layer of dismal grey clouds, and so was my mind. The incessant whine of the distant foghorn wasn’t helping my mood any. I got up, showered, and commenced packing all my necessary items in preparation for moving over to the beau’s parents’ rental house, where I’d be getting ready.

There had been no magical overnight transformation into a serene, blissed-out bride, as I’d halfheartedly hoped for. But you know what? Something happened that morning anyway, something I can’t put my finger on. No, that much-sought-after wave of joy never did pass over me, but at a certain point I just gave in to the flow of the day. There was no use worrying or trying to figure anything out anymore. I’d have time to sort out my emotions later. Right now, I was just going to focus on what was in front of me.

I’d set aside the chunk of time between 8:30 and noon to get myself ready, and I am happy to report that for the most part the morning meandered in a leisurely manner. There were doughnuts, bagels, fruit, and yogurt. There were mimosas. Our photographer came over for an hour, during which I quickly changed out of my street clothes for a brief photo session with my dress. My hair was done, but my face was bare and I didn’t bother with the undergarments — still, my aunt cried when she saw me with that dress on. I presented my brigadiers, mom, and (almost) mother-in-law with necklaces, and then it was my mom’s turn to cry. Overall, being forced to sit still and make conversation with my closest people helped distract my brain, which was otherwise singularly focused on reminding me that OMG I AM GETTING MARRIED TODAY AND PEOPLE WILL BE LOOKING AT ME.

It was a pleasant time while it lasted, but noon came around with a vengeance. I had to cut my makeup time short and rush to get dressed so I could make it in time to have lunch at home, where the beau had been getting ready with some of his groomsmen. It was a little surreal walking into a house full of guys with my wedding dress on, flopping down on the couch, and proceeding to check my email. The guys, however, were on their way out, leaving the beau and I alone for the first time with our full wedding regalia on. “Hello,” I said. “Hello,” he replied. We quickly arrived at the conclusion that each of us looked very nice, then stared at each other for a beat. “Here’s your sandwich,” he said, handing me a paper bag with my favorite combo: prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, and basil. I ate greedily, standing over the table so nothing landed on my dress, unceremoniously licking honey mustard off my fingers. In between bites we caught each other up on how our mornings had gone.

It was just like normal, but it wasn’t. We were us, but we were different.

You know, so much emphasis is typically placed on moments such as these. Standing as we were inside a life moment that arrives preprogrammed with heavily scripted meaning, it was refreshing to experience it on our own terms. There were no dramatic embraces, no tears, no special sense of this is it, we’ve finally arrived. For some, that won’t feel right. But for us, it was comforting. The beau and I are not especially romantic or sentimental people, so to spend those special few moments together on our wedding day inside our hideously cluttered home, casually stuffing our faces with sandwiches — that was the ultimate unplanned tribute to ourselves.

We couldn’t linger, though, because we had to meet one of our photographers at the courthouse at 1:00 p.m. for some pictures alone. At 2:00 we headed down to the Historical Museum to take the shots with our families. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so much in my life, and I don’t mean that in a good way. By the time we finished the posed photos, guests were beginning to arrive. I flitted back and forth between the courtyard and our staging area — a room inside a historic building from which my brigadiers and I would make our entrances — greeting guests and touching up my makeup. Being able to say hello to folks as they came in and invite them to help themselves to a glass of champagne helped take my mind off the fact that the ceremony was quickly approaching — but not nearly for long enough.

At some point my anxiety finally crested so high that I sequestered myself in the staging room to calm down and go over my vows. I leaned against the wall and read them over and over again, trying to burn the words into my brain. I glanced up and locked eyes with my best lady. “Oh my god,” I said. “I’m going to die.”

And I almost hoped I would.

 

taken by my best lady

 

Soon enough, the coordinator poked his head in and said it was almost time to start. And just like that the tremors in my stomach became quakes. My mother tentatively approached the room and stood just outside the door. “It’s okay, you can come in, mom,” I called. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, “but I wanted to wish you luck and say I love you.” Her mouth worked as she came in for a hug and I had to blink fast to fight back the tears. I already felt like throwing up — the last thing I wanted to do was start bawling.

Much later, on the phone, my mom told me how scared I had seemed in those final moments before the wedding. “You looked just like a little girl,” she recalled, her voice tender.

The music started. The groomsmen had already filed out, and my brigadiers were now walking out one at a time; tethers slowly being released into the sky.

Now I was alone, and now it was my turn.

I took a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped outside.

*****

I imagine you can fill in the details from here. There was a ceremony, there were cocktails, there was dinner and dancing, and then later, an afterparty at a bar. A wedding script not unlike so many thousands of weddings that have come before.

And just like all the weddings that have come before, there were plenty of things that went wrong that day, of course, and plenty of disappointments. But this being my 200th post on this blog, it seems fitting that right now I should only focus on what went right. And so I present to you, in no particular order, a list of some of my favorite memories — with photo accompaniment! — from the wedding day and beyond.

  • Standing around in a circle with the wedding party right after the ceremony, slugging cherry bourbon from a flask.
  • Reading the Facebook comments and updates from our friends the day after, in which they talked about what an amazing wedding weekend they’d had.
  • Our dear friend Fabio’s über-dramatic reading of the Magnetic Fields’ “Love is Like a Bottle of Gin” during the ceremony.

  • Hearing my great aunt and uncle, whom I barely know, tell me during the reception that hey, times have changed and it’s okay if I don’t take my new husband’s last name.
  • All the times one of our friends said: “That was the best wedding I’ve ever been to.”
  • The groomsmen admitting that they almost lost it and started crying during the ceremony.
  • Spotting our caterer standing in his yard drinking wine straight from the bottle at 1:30 a.m. during our walk back home from the bar.
  • Hugging and talking to friends and family during the cocktail hour — and asking the coordinator to extend it because we were just having too good of a time for it to end.

  • Running up a row of tables high-fiving our guests during our grand entrance to Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage.”
  • Coming up to the champagne table before the ceremony and having one of the catering staff ask me: “So, which one is the bride?”
  • Fabio getting temporarily left behind by his ride the morning after the wedding, because he was too distracted by talking to my parents.
  • How the fog rolled in during our first dance, then proceeded to roll right back out again for the rest of the night.

  • Looking down during the ceremony and noticing for the first time that our officiant wasn’t wearing any shoes.
  • The absolutely amazing butternut squash ravioli we had at dinner — and the raving compliments we received about it afterwards.
  • Sitting at the head table during dinner and looking around at our guests chatting and laughing, our wedding party next to us, the color of the flowers in the sun — just taking pictures and soaking it all in.

  • The beau’s brother pulling me aside during the cocktail hour and telling me how amazingly personal and meaningful our ceremony had been.
  • Ugly-dancing like a spastic fool during “The Humpty Dance.”
  • All the toasts and cheers. Of course.

  • The praise we got for our signature drink — the Ginger Rogers — for which the beau had infused the liquor himself.
  • Hearing from all the people who were touched by the ring-warming during the ceremony.
  • Seeing how many people enthusiastically donned the props we put out for our guestbook photos.

  • Watching two families come together on Thursday afternoon before the wedding when my parents, the beau’s parents and brother, and the beau and I hung out for the first time on our front porch, having drinks and gluing dessert plates.
  • Getting out of the shower the morning after the wedding to find the living room crammed with dozens of pals who’d dropped in on their way out of town to give us hugs and wish us well.
  • Inadvertently making the guests crack up during the ceremony.

  • Catching my uncle stuffing his suit pockets with cookies from our dessert buffet.
  • Packing for the honeymoon on Sunday afternoon.
  • How our DJ actually played all 18 minutes of the epic punk NOFX song “The Decline” towards the end of the night — and how our friends stood in a circle in the dance floor for those entire 18 minutes, shouting every word of the lyrics in unison.

And that? That, my friends, is good enough.

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All photos in this post, except for the first one, taken by Aaron Rosenblatt.

 

Aaron and my one of my best ladies.