It’s been about 9 and a half months since my love proposed to me. It was a beautiful setting, the green space outside of the location we met for the first time. It was a warm day and though the sun was shining, there were isolated showers. He started giving what sounded like a speech and I just knew what was coming. In truth, I’d had suspicion that it was going to be soon and even told my daughter early in the day I was nervous about my date that night. It was my birthday and he insisted on taking me out, just the two of us, which isn’t particularly odd for a birthday dinner, but like I said, I just had a feeling.
He ended his little speech (which I don’t remember anything about because of my nerves) and got down on one knee and took the box out of his pocket and held it up to me and asked if I would marry him. Of course I said yes, it was the perfect moment. Then the sky opened up and it began to to pour. We hugged and kissed and I grabbed his hand so we could go inside for a celebratory glass of wine (our first meetup was at a wine bar).
It was sweet and simple and perfect. We were outside and there were not any people around. It was just us.
Since then we have talked about getting married about 10 times. That’s about once a month if one does the math. That’s not a lot.
The first time was when we drove to Minnesota last fall and that’s when we agreed we wanted to have a celebration with close friends and family and not a destination wedding. Our parents, except for my mom, don’t travel anymore and destination weddings are too expensive for the guests anyway.
The second and third time was mostly talking about the possible dates and the guest list. Neither one of us want a “big” wedding so we decided something smaller and more modest would be better. He suggested we get married on our one year anniversary and I sort of snorted what I was drinking out of my nose at the time and then proceeded to have an internal mini freak out. I calmly said “I think that’s too soon”.
Then we talked about summer and weather and a ceremony outside. Then I came up with the idea of getting married on February 2nd, 2020. That, folks, is a stellar day as it is a bonafied numeric palindrome – 02022020 (no matter what continent you are on)!! He said “I love it”. So that was it, the date was set.
And it was delightfully far enough in the future that I could forget all about it for a good little while. And so I did.
Every once and a while the subject came up and something else was more pressing. It was the holidays and then the move and then the sale of my house and then it was just work and kids and too much to do always. Now here it is, June and less than 8 months until that perfect date and I’m done with work and the kids are out of school and I’ve got no excuses not to start planning.
We talked briefly about it again and I cleaned out a few boxes in my closet and found an empty notebook to take notes in. I googled venues in Omaha and made a short list of a few places that looked nice.
I made a few calls and left awkward voicemails and also sent a few emails. We’re “Just checking availability” and not really doing any serious planning. That’s what I tell myself when I feel my pulse quicken thinking about all of it.
Now my calls and emails are being returned. A couple of the places are not available on that date and the next step will be to schedule tours of the rest. Oh gawd. “Tours”??!! That sounds so serious. Eeeek. I’m also looking at price breakdowns and that alone is enough for me to throw my hands up in surrender. It’s all just impossibly.. impossible.
Just this amount of “planning” has caused my eye to start twitching again. I want to celebrate this important time in our lives but I don’t want a grand, elaborate, expensive, look-at-us, sort of thing. He doesn’t either.
All of this and I haven’t even touched the actual subject of marriage. This is all just fluff, you know, next to the fact that on that day, the second day of February in the year 2020, I will be saying vows and committing the rest of my life to this one person. I mean, he’s amazing and all of that but the rest of my life is a long fucking time. I have a healthy amount of anxiety about the wedding but the idea of marriage literally terrifies me.
I’ve had almost 10 months to think about it and work through my issues and the reasons why I might be feeling this way, but I’ve been avoiding it. I’ve procrastinated thinking or writing or talking about it at any length with anyone, myself included. It’s probably about time I approach the conversation with him and let him help me through it. He’s been so great about so many different situations I’ve been challenged with or troubled by since like day-1, so why should this be any different??
Anyway, we have a (mostly) kid free weekend this weekend and it will be the perfect time for some good conversations. I can’t let myself repeat past mistakes and keep it all inside. Communication is key here. And, as a matter of fact, it’s one of the most important components in a successful marriage. I’d better make an effort to keep a good thing good now. It’s a long way till “death do us part”. Oh Gawd. Vows!!!!
Let’s call this little post part 1 of a series and if I can commit to that, I’m accountable to write part 2, which means I have to have the content to have something to write about.. right!?!!
Here Comes the Weekend,