The Secret Guests at Weddings

Brian and I wrapped up the last wedding either one of us will be in, or at least for a few years, on Sunday. Our friends Carm and Chris celebrated their new life together with 8 bridesmaids and groomsmen, 175 guests and fourteen thousand dollars that are now re-circulating in the local economy. It was a fabulous but exhausting day. Brian and I got home last night and starred blankly at the television as we rehashed the day.

We are both people watchers. Brian is a people watcher because he’s the youngest child and the only boy in his family – it was just easier for him to shut up and watch. I’m a people watcher because I’m an only child – I’m fascinated by watching sibling relationships unfold in front of me. One of my favorite things about a wedding is we can get a fix on our voyeuristic tendencies in a socially acceptable forum.

The great thing about a big wedding is there are so many opportunities to see true personality types – especially in the wedding. The following are a few of my favorites.

Matron of Honor-zilla: Bridezilla is such a popular icon in pop culture but I don’t really think it happens as frequently as it is rumored. I think it’s the Matron of Honor-zilla that bridesmaids everywhere quake at the mere thought of. This is the woman whose own wedding didn’t go quite so well – the pushy best friend of the bride. She wants everyone to know her very important role in the wedding. And she wants you to know that she is the only one who can do things for the bride. Tip: if you are a bridesmaid and you notice the Matronzilla has started to stress the bride out, cause minor disasters that only the Matron can fix. If that means ripping your dress and letting Matronzilla safety pin it to your skin, so be it. It’ll be less stress for everyone else.

The Fem Groomsman: There is always one – the not gay but not masculine friend of the Bride who just had to be in the wedding. He would probably wear a dress and get his hair done if you let him. He’s great because he dances with all the single girls. Just remember to keep laughing when he starts dancing with all the husbands.

Super Bridesmaid to the Rescue: Need her to get the wedding site at the same time as the coordinator? She’s there. Need her to help the mother of the bride get dressed? Right on top of that Rose. Need her to distract the Matronzilla? Appropriate disaster on the way! Her husband is her minion for whatever needs she can’t handle herself.

The Interrupter: She wasn’t asked to be part of the wedding. She really shouldn’t be hunting down the bride before the wedding. But she is anyway. The interrupter doesn’t know why she isn’t in the wedding, but she’s still determined to be in every photo. Tip: Get the Fem Groomsman to earn his keep by doubling as a human shield.

The Anti-Bride’s Maid: This girl does not do weddings. She won’t wear a dress, she hates make up and she has no idea why she is there. And no one else can tell her either!

Congratulations Carm & Chris! We wish you nothing but the best. Brian and I are so happy for the love you share and the joy you add to our lives!

Why I Don’t Celebrate Valentine’s Day (here’s a hint: It involves a dead rat)

Last year, my husband experienced Valentine’s Day for the first time on this side of a relationship as he had always been single before then. He tried to warn me in the months before the holiday that he had never celebrated Valentine’s Day, he didn’t see the point of it and he did not want to celebrate. I thought I could utilize the skills I learned in premarital counseling and compromise by purchasing cards for each other instead of gifts. It seemed like such a good idea.

When Valentine’s Day arrived, we stayed in. It snowed so we played hooky from work. We made breakfast together. We lounged in bed. We had dinner together and shared a bottle of wine. Then it was time for the card exchange.

My dear sweet husband bought me a card with a dead rat on it. Nothing says romance like a rodent. And since I was drunk, I cried. I questioned whether or not we should get married. I got so worked up that Brian ruined an upcoming surprise to try to make me happier. I still cried about the dead rat.

We may have ended the evening by sleeping in separate rooms.

This year, I am not celebrating Valentine’s Day.

Let’s be honest for a moment: I know I am an individual with high expectations. I set these expectations for myself, for others and for inanimate objects. My husband does not have high expectations for anything. He goes with the flow and rolls with the punches. Valentine’s Day is not a declaration of our love but a clash of our differences.

I didn’t buy a card for Brian this year. Instead I found red boxers with white hearts and I left it at that. I know he bought something for me this year but that’s only because he made a mistake with the check book and I had to go back and fix the math.

But that’s okay. By not celebrating Valentine’s Day, I lowered my expectations and I can be happy with whatever he chooses to give to me.

After all, it is just another day and ten years from now, it won’t matter. One day is just a drop in the bucket when you have the rest of your lives together.

How Quickly Ghosts Return

I received a phone call from an ex boyfriend last night. Not that a call from an ex boyfriend is all that unusual. I've had a lot of ex boyfriends and I am still friends with the majority of them. After all, I dated them for a reason and usually the reason I wanted to date them is reason why I want to maintain a friendship after the fact.

This ex boyfriend and I have a lot of history. I truly believed until a year ago that he and I were going to get married. Now I'm married to Brian. The ex and I have had the oddest relationship since day one. The first time I met him, I fell in love with him. I came home and told my mother that I had met the man I was going to marry. Mind you, I was 16 and he was 14. He is one of the rare people in my life that I know I will love forever regardless of the ways we have hurt each other in the past and the ways we will hurt each other in the future.

His phone call terrified me. He didn't know I was married. And there was something in his voice that scared me as that revelation I was made. I know him the same way I know Brian. Which is also very scary.

Six months ago, I thought I was never going to see him again. Now he calls and says he's been thinking about me. I almost gave up everything for him and now he's thinking of me. Great. Day late and a dollar short my friend.

My marriage is my priority. I hope he understands that nothing can change now.

May 16 aka 31 days

Last night I watched my almost husband sleep on the floor in green pasley boxers that I bought for him at Christmas as I half read Anne Lamott and I half listened to a thunderstorm roll into the Levittown skies.

I call Brian my "almost husband" because any other term available to describe his roll in my life seems horribly inaccurate. "Fiance" reminds me too much of Seinfeld and "maybe the dingo ate your baby" and I really don't want to be thinking about Julia Louis Dreyfuss when I think about my mate. The term "boyfriend" seems to downplay Brian's roll in my life as if he was a leftover relic from my college days with no actual commitment on the horizon. Which he is not. Thank you very much. I cannot yet call Brian my husband because the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and my mother object on the grounds that our legally binding promise has yet to be signed. They apparently do not agree with my belief that engagement is just as binding as marriage.

Almost Husband it is.

Another accurate way to describe Brian is to refer to him as my better half. I do not say that to degrade or berate myself but as our premarital counselor so nicely put it, I have "tendencies" towards "agressive, dominant" behavior and intolerance, and Brian, well, he does not.

She also tried to tell us that the personality test which supplied the information was only a snapshot in time but I would be lying to myself if I did not admit that the statement is accurate on a daily basis.

Clearly, my almost husband is better than your almost husband. Mainly because he puts up with me.

Brian continues to amaze me each day. He has a wonderful ability to see through my, ahem, shit in a way that no one else can. And I have a lot of shit that needs to be seen through. I don't like to think of myself as someone who fronts, but I do know that I tend to only show one aspect of myself at a time to people in the outside world. All of it is accurate, but I'm still not showing everything. Okay, so maybe I front. My front is so good that even I forget that I'm fronting. At times, my front is like a creeping ivy that has overtaken a house and only a certain almost husband seems to be able to see through that ivy to the potential that lies beneath it.

Brian keeps me nice. I don't mean that in a way that implies that he pays for everything (although he does pay for quite a bit more than I do). Brian is my personal editor through life. He edits my post it note directions for our family with "please" and "thank you" and "have a nice day" and ":)". He stops me from leaving post it notes that say "take out the g-ddamn trash" for the wonderful family members who live with us. He let me buy a big soft comfortable mattress even though he would rather sleep on a plank. Why? Because it made me happy. He humors me. He willingly goes to my alma mater to visit my college friends even though he thinks the college I went to was weird and the people I knew were even weirder. He looks for ways to make my life better.

I tend to freak out on him because the dinner table isn't set, I have at least three more load of laundry to do, and he's been home for three hours longer than I have and all I wanted to do was paint my nails.

Thank god he lets me.