Okay. So, it’s official… I am a wedding blogger. If you knew me the way I know me, you might be as weirded out by this as I am. Weirded out, you ask? …But why?
Well, I’ve never really been a wedding-y person. In fact, I was (and in many ways still am) one of those queers who speaks out against marriage all together. It was not so long ago, you would have found me asking: why are we even focusing on marriage? We should be fighting for more important issues like health-care, and immigration rights, and reproductive freedom and adoption rights! Marriage is an inherently exclusive institution that shouldn’t be supported by the state! What do we want? FREEDOM! When do we want it? NOW! So… yeah… not so wedding-y. And even though I’ve decided to get married, I still have a lot of respect for that particular queer perspective on the issue (although, I harbor a lot of impatience with it as well, but more on that in another post).
Anyway, this is all to say, I’m totally weirded out by how much I’ve gotten sucked into thinking about weddings. I mean, what kind of freaks spend time during their busy lives to think about tulle, or table settings, or shepherds hooks, or… escort cards? What ARE escort cards? How do I even know these words? Who have I become?
I hardly recognize myself anymore: I read wedding blogs daily. I scan etsy for crafsty steals. I fall asleep worrying about whether I should change my dress fabric from silk shantung to silk dupioni (I’m not kidding… I actually lay away for hours two nights ago because of this dilemma). I have become a creepy barbie version of my previously cool self.
My fiance, who I think I’ll just call Beau, has not gotten sucked into this insane wedding world that I’ve begun to inhabit — and this is just as well, because one of us needs to keep our feet firmly planted on the ground. In my worst moments, she reminds me that this whole marriage thing is about love and family and fun and doesn’t need to drive me towards the brink. I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve her.
We met in perhaps the gayest way imaginable: at a rugby practice at our small liberal arts school. Yes… it’s true… I didn’t make that up.
Our Venue
And here we are, almost seven years later… gettin’ hitched. We’re doing the deed on August 22 in western Massachusetts at a renovated barn. The ceremony will be outside under a big ol’ tree on a big ‘ol hill after which we’ll dance the night away in the barn under twinkle lights and candle-filled mason jars. We’re both totally psyched and overwhelmed by the whole thing. But mostly, we just feel good: good about the fact that we get to do this… for reals… in front of our families, and our friends, and my mom’s realtor who I’ve never met but she’s insisted on inviting, and well… everybody. It doesn’t get a whole lot better than this.
