So You're EnGAYged, A Gay Wedding Blog

How do you know you’ve picked the right dress?  Well, one way to tell is if you squeal like a twelve-year-old when you get the email telling you that your dress has shipped.  And oh, did I squeal.  It’ll be here on Thursday, and I’ve already arranged to head to a bridesmaid’s house to try it on that night.  I also got what I’m planning to wear as my wedding necklace this week, meaning that I can take my first look at myself in the actual things I’ll wear on my wedding day.

Here’s the necklace and earrings I plan to wear:

Photo by us. (We forgot the date-stamp was on!)

(Worn with the dress I’ll be wearing to someone else’s wedding in a month or so.  Imagine I’m wearing something white and strapless instead!)

Here’s a closer shot of the necklace:

Photo by Stacy.

They’re available on Etsy for a really reasonable price, and the seller can change the length of the necklace and the color of the pearls to suit your taste.

And these are my beloved rainbow shoes:

Photo by Stacy.

I saw these on a style blog and immediately knew I had to have them– something I don’t say often, but I mean it here.  Aside from the obvious pride reference, they’re deeply meaningful to me because my middle name is– literally–Rainbow, and wearing rainbow colors makes me feel carefree and happy like I’m a kid again– definitely a feeling I’d like to inspire my wedding day.  My dress is long and fairly full, so these shoes will be a hidden flash of color (a modern trend I really like).  Plus, they cover my “something blue”!

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It’s funny that Ms. Sparrow should have posted about her wedding nightmares recently; I read it and thought how uncomfortable and stressful it would be to have those kinds of dreams, but felt pretty safe as my nightmares usually involve work, school, or similar subjects.  Little did I know that my subconscious was cooking up a doozy for me.

I dreamed last night that it was suddenly, unexplainable, the day of the wedding, even though it appeared to be summer and our wedding is in the fall.  Nothing was ready, we had no supplies, and it was taking place in a concrete park shelter instead of at my dreamy little pond.  All I had was my dress– and the sneakers I was wearing.  Friends and family were rushing to my aid, suggesting ways to make do with what we had, but I just sat down and bawled.  Then it started to storm, and I was caught out on a grassy stretch with several other people.  There was lightning so fierce that we all had to get down on the ground and crawl towards shelter so as not to be hit.   I was army-crawling in my wedding dress.

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Stacy and I have been fortunate enough in friendship that, for the most part, her friends are my friends and my friends are her friends, so we aren’t worrying too much about who’s a bridesman, groomsmaid, bridesmaid, groomsman, whatever.  We basically just have a wedding party of two guys and seven gals, all of whom we wanted to specially honor.  They’re all fantastic, caring people… with very different senses of style and body types.

I didn’t feel right dictating a dress for each of the ladies to wear, so at first I just assigned each of them a color (either burgundy, burnt orange, or cornflower blue) and asked them to pick something that they liked and would wear again, preferably in silk dupioni, silk shantung, or taffeta.  I specified the fabric restrictions  because I’ve seen a ton of chiffon and “satin” dresses that… well, honestly, they just looked cheap, and most times they distracted from the beauty of the person wearing them instead of enhancing it.  I also liked the idea of all of the dresses having the same sheen.

As it turned out, it’s pretty hard to find a reasonably priced silk or taffeta dress, which is probably why so many people wear the other fabrics.  I had been out hunting online and in stores for months, and although I found some gorgeous dresses, the prices were steep, and I felt very uncomfortable asking the girls to fork over close to $300.  The colors I picked are specific enough that their choices were pretty slim as well.  So, after some hemming and hawing over the holidays, I decided to take the fabric restrictions off.  After all, why should the people I love best have to bend over backwards and pay through the nose for something as silly as a dress?  The important thing is that they’re there, and that they’re willing to show up in an assigned color is just a bonus.

The guys… well, I would say that the guys are easy, since they’ve said that they’re fine with renting whatever suit we choose.  Except that I’d really like them to match what Stacy wears… and Stacy’s having some trouble picking what she wants to wear. She’s been perusing the ‘real weddings’ section on this site like she’s Anna Wintour. I laid down one law (No tuxedos! if my guests want to see penguins, they can go to the Aviary) and expressed my preference for a tan suit (which is based on the outfits for that ubiquitous but awesome wedding entrance dance video.  Aren’t these guys handsome?  And the dresses aren’t too far off from my colors! Look at them! http://www.jkweddingdance.com/ ).   All the same, I know that the outfits should be Stacy’s choice, and I’m sure she and the guys will look amazing in whatever she picks.

Those of you who read my engagement story will know that a lot of important moments in Stacy and I’s relationship have occurred in Pittsburgh’s public parks, so it made sense to hold our wedding in one of them.  We originally wanted to have it in Frick Park, but logistical issues ruled that out, so we decided to hold it in Schenley Park, another huge, beautiful, and beloved piece of public land.  The reception venue was an easy choice: the beautifully restored Schenley Park Visitor Center.

Image via Flickr.

The first thing that made the Visitor Center a no-brainer is that it’s only a couple minutes’ walk away from our ceremony site (more details on that soon!).  It’s the perfect size for an intimate 60-person wedding like ours, and I love the turn-of-the-century feeling of the building.  We were thrilled to discover that because it’s small, it fits perfectly into our budget! I’ll take some pictures of the interior to share the next time we’re there, but for now you can imagine wood and stone and lots of windows.

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Ah, Facebook.  The sweetness of camaraderie and the agony of drama, all in one tidy little package.  I resisted joining for a long time because I felt it would be little but a distraction and an annoyance (see also: Myspace).  I forget what inspired me to join, but whoa nelly, have I ever taken a shine to it since I did.  It’s been wonderful to reconnect with old friends and family members who don’t live nearby, and I love having one central place to share links, news, and discussions with almost everyone I talk to.  I’ve even “met” a few new friends there.  I think it’s fair to say that I’ve become a convert… and I’ll be happy when Stacy finally sees the light and gets an account.  (AHEM.  Hint hint.)

However, with all the information flying around there, you’re bound to occasionally learn something you wish you hadn’t about a friend or family member (and I’m not even referring to the health conditions that some people apparently feel are worth a status update).  I recently learned that someone I’ve known since childhood is against gay marriage, and I’ve been really wrestling with how to address the subject ever since that dastardly little tidbit popped up in my News Feed.

Even though this person isn’t someone that I regularly see, and so I’m not exceedingly hurt by their position, I definitely believe on many levels that it’s my responsibility to say something.  First of all, I consider being GLBT something to celebrate, and I believe we should always speak our truths.  Secondly, I think that the only real way people who discriminate against us will ever change their minds is through personal contact, and as such I choose to be an ambassador for the GLBT community if the opportunity comes up.  It gets harder to discriminate against an entire section of the population if that section is made up of faces and names, especially faces and names that are familiar and well-liked.

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One of the great things about a same-sex wedding is the increased sense of freedom when it comes to following, or disposing of, wedding traditions.  You can do everything the way Martha Stewart would prefer or you can be as quirky as you like, since you’re working in relatively new territory and even your more hide-bound relatives are probably going to take a step back and see how you want things to go.

One of the traditions I intend to keep is the father-daughter dance.  While I want both of my parents to be equally honored (they’ll both be accompanying me down the aisle, and I have some special things planned for my mom), I think that dancing a song with my father will be an especially sweet way to pay tribute to him and the relationship I have with him.  I’ve even picked out the song: Paul Simon’s “Father and Daughter,” which makes me a little teary-eyed every time I hear it but isn’t saccharine or trite.  You can listen to it here, if you’re so inclined: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhT0Pydv4JQ&feature=related

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One of the only truly frustrating parts of wedding planning for me has been the acquisition of the famous white gown.  I set out with three guiding principles: pre-owned, reasonably priced, and nothing that would even come close to bringing the word “cupcake” to mind.  Before setting out to try anything on, I researched.  Oh, did I research.  I can now confidently tell you the difference between a basque and a dropped waist, spot an empire silhouette from 200 yards, and identify chiffon, taffeta, and silk tricotine even in blurry web photos.

Armed with my new knowledge, I made an appointment at a bridal salon to try on different styles and see what I liked on my body.  I went in with a pragmatic mindset, just like I have when I need to buy a new winter coat.  If you read anything having to do with weddings, you’ll have heard descriptions of the moment when the bride in question knew she had found the one, and if you’re anything like me, you wonder if they felt more thrilled about finding their dress than they felt about finding their future spouse. And then, completely out of the blue, it happened.  I fell in love with a dress.

For all my snark about this kind of moment, when I looked at myself in the mirror, the feelings were genuine: the sense of beauty and grace in my own skin, the vision of my wedding day unfolding in front of me, the knowledge that I was about to move into a new phase of life with everyone I loved most gathered around me.  I had found The Dress.  (It’s killing me that I can’t put a picture here of me in it, but I really like the idea of the dress being a surprise for Stacy, and I don’t want to expose her to that level of temptation!)

I enjoyed this cloud-nine sensation for a few days, and then the bottom dropped out with a thud. (more…)

As our wedding day gets closer (we’re less than a year away now! Woot!) I’ve been thinking about how I dislike the term ‘partner.’ Although I like that some straight couples have begun using it, giving it a nice egalitarian quality, there’s something about the word itself that bothers me. It always makes me think of that scene in “American Beauty” where the gay couple introduce themselves to their new military-dude neighbor, and after one of them is introduced as “my partner,” Chris Cooper asks them what they’re selling. If words had tastes, to me this particular one would taste like a yellow legal pad might: bland and dry and impersonal. Blech.

Yet I find myself using it, because the other options don’t really resonate with me either. “Wife” doesn’t really sound right to us, and while I like “spouse,” does anyone really use that term in conversation? My spouse and I are honeymooning in… nah. Doesn’t really cut it. I once knew someone who referred to their SigOth as their “beloved,” and while it’s very sweet, I don’t think I can pull it off with a straight face. And as someone who’s read entirely too much nineteenth-century literature, I would gladly refer to Stacy as “my intended,” but I doubt it’d be readily understood.(“Your Nintendo is named Stacy?”)
Sometimes I wish I could coin a term just for gay married people to use referring to their significant others… Something with no pre-existing meaning, like “fletchling” or “snumple.” The problem, of course (aside from sounding like I’m talking about a Hanna Barbara cartoon) is that no one would have the slightest clue what I’m talking about.

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About me: I work in the nonprofit sector at an organization that combines environmental work with youth development, and I’m constantly reading, starting knitting/crochet projects I don’t finish, and trying to convince people that being a “cat mom” is good practice for being a parent. Both my partner and I are lifelong Pittsburghers, and consider ourselves to be about the luckiest people in the world. It’s not that we don’t love other cities and all they have to offer… it’s just that they don’t have the Steelers, or the Penguins, or pierogies, or the rivers, or… well, you get the point. We met while we were in high school at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center’s youth group, and the rest is history. We like tasting wine and beer, enjoying local food, being outside, and taking road trips.
I’m so excited to join the SoYou’reEnGAYged community!

More about me after the jump: (more…)