March 2002"... as the budget mounts and the calendar shrinks"
by Valerie Carino ...
We met some friends last night that recently got engaged. She sparkles and speaks about her wedding with such joy that she almost appears angelic, with her permanent smile and inner confidence bursting through. And with her fiancé constantly touching her, it's enough to make their single friends tuck themselves away in a corner, putting distance between their loneliness and the couple's sickening cocoon.
I hate to say it, but that used to be me and Damien, before the post-engagement honeymoon ended. Now, as the budget mounts and the calendar shrinks, we're both super stressed. And who could blame us with the big day just seven months away.
To the ladies longing for carats, be forewarned: Your wedding is not merely a white dress, or a glossy photo of a candlelit reception in a magazine. For me, it has meant sleepless nights, arguments over the guest list and turf wars over what flavor cake should be served at the reception.
These are just some of the troubles we've had while planning our wedding. And now, if you'll bear with me, I'll share a few more.
After finally finding a dress for the other two bridesmaids, one of them, my dearest and oldest friend, had to decline my invitation but not without regret. Come September, she may be deployed to Germany or wherever the Air Force sends her. So in Julia's place I asked my cousin, Vanessa, whose mother has an intense fear of flying and may ask her not to go. Fifty bucks says Vanessa will say no. So now I have an uneven number of bridesmaids to be paired with the groomsmen and the next most intimate friend lives all the way in Dublin - miles away from bridal boutiques that carry Dessy gowns in lilac.
Second, we just realized that there will be three photographers at the wedding, which seems excessive for our little country affair. When we got engaged, I asked my photojournalist friend, John, to shoot the wedding. But I forgot that Damien's mother had already booked two other photographers. I can't really rescind my request, as John is already psyched to go with his 100 rolls of film and eagerness for his first pint of Guinness in an Irish pub.
The guest list has been problematic as well. We originally placed 225 on the list, but now we're thinking we'll cut at least 60 people. The rule, we hear, is that you're supposed to invite people with whom you've had contact within the last six months. With that, I have nixed the mentor who took me to the beach when I first moved to Tampa in 1997 and the sushi partner who shared my disgust of close talkers and colleagues who had the nerve to ask if "couldn't" was one word or two.
While some of the people on my list are more expendable than others (I mean no offense), Damien insists his aren't. His dad has upwards (I'm not sure) of 10 siblings and they all have to come to the wedding. That's not counting his mother's family and all the extended family and neighbors as well. So if I do the math correctly, that would put his people around 125, 130 - maybe more. With Damien's list so large, my first instinct is to sacrifice some of the people on mine, but he gets annoyed with me at the mere suggestion of it. But the way I see it, more people equals more stress, and I'm trying to keep those levels to a minimum.
To add more dollar signs to our final bill, flights to Ireland in October have gone up recently. I patted myself on the back when this time last year I found a fare for $298. If we were to book today, we could expect to fork over almost twice that.
As for my work situation, I am still freelancing, a major factor in my insomnia and anxiety. Unless you're John-Q.-I-write-for-Vanity-Fair, a freelancer can never rely on a predictable paycheck, so you have to hustle constantly to find work. The recession hasn't helped either.
All this time - in between moving to a new city, looking for jobs and arguing over the wedding - I must remember the one truth I'd shoved aside: Remember that I love him. Yes, Val, remember that you love him. That is more important than a silly little guest list.
|