I am paying you to know my name. . .

I am paying you to know my name. . .

 

This pic from here

Ah the joys of wedding planning. Have I harped on this subject enough yet?
Despite a perusal of many of my latest blog posts, which might say otherwise, I say--definitely not.

So I shall over-share with you my most recent adventure in planning.

It's a strange dichotomy this "your big day" thing. I'm constantly being told it's "my big day". Like, mine, personally. As though I did something particularly bright and shiny. Last time I checked I graduated from college four years ago, haven't accomplished my Oprah-Martha-HGTV-superstar status yet, and sometimes am a really huge cranky biatch beast.

Last time I checked we are no longer paying dowries. I am not a prized pony who was wily enough to trick a man of means into supporting me for the rest of my life. I am not a child bride from My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding (which I am not admitting to you that I have watched) who has to have a dress as big as a boat to impress my friends, and distract from the fact that after this day, I will basically live a life of indentured servitude to my husband and the children I will be expected to have. (Does anyone else not watch that show and not find it super depressing?)

Last time I checked it takes two to tango. You know, me and the man who are taking that big plunge and committing to a life together.

I thought it was supposed to be our big day.

But, alas I was wrong. It is not our big day, John and Rachel.

It is, according to various vendors, directed at us: Rachel & Travis, Rebecca & Michael, or Sarah & Bryan's big day.

WTF people. You are really bursting my feeling special bubble here.

Just when I was losing faith, we scheduled a meeting with a man of God. Our officiant. I knew he wouldn't fail us.

We went to meet him. He came towards us, a halo of light shinning down on him, I knew he'd do it, he'd save us from all the bad vendors who have let us down. . .

"Oh hello, you must be Irene! And is this your fiance Brennan?"

We're doomed.

Paris Je T'Aime

Paris Je T'Aime

The ring was too big for the right finger!

Paris. The City of Love. The City of Lights. The City I got engaged in!
Yep, this little lady is engaged. How exciting right?

I waiver between total euphoria and absolute terror. I'm no fool, I have a great amount of respect for the sanctity of marriage, and as such I know what a huge deal this is!

It's like a crashing wave, a thunderstorm, a bolt of lightning. It's beautiful, it's magical, it's awe-inspiring but you know the force behind it is beyond you, and above you and totally greater than you could ever be.


I am so proud to be marrying the bf. I read this quote the other day (cheesy love quotes time) that said:

"Lovers don't meet somewhere, they're in each other all along"

and I thought it was so fitting for the bf and I. Even all those years ago I knew there was something in him that fit something in me. I didn't know we'd get married, and our love wasn't always easy.As Donkey from Shrek would say, we were like onions, many layers making it hard for us to see each other clearly. But that little seed was there. Little roots spread out between us and intertwined. I knew when one of our first official dates was sitting on his futon watching Ferngully & eating take-out Chinese--this was something special.

And now, many adventures later we are here. He proposed in a quiet courtyard in front of our Paris apartment. He got down on his knee, heart beating wildly ( I know because I felt it when he hugged me) and asked me to marry him so he could love me forever. I said yes, (and what? and omg? and really?) and now we're at this fork in our lives.
And it's so exciting.