So very sorry to keep you all waiting with baited breath to hear my tall tales of nuptials and delicate social commitment. I would have gotten this underway sooner, but I traveled back to the Boston area on Sunday and I had a hot date with the fella I’m having a ‘not a relationship’ with on Sunday night so I didn’t have much of a chance to collect my thoughts.
Because I know several of you will ask, he’s a brutal sadist to my inherent masochist. He may be the end of me, not likely, but I’m fully expecting an emotional ass-kicking coming soon. I’ve come to realize that I’ve started having the odious emotions for him that are usually at the center of my undoing. When considering that what we have together is a ‘not a relationship’, and he doesn’t want anything more than a ‘not a relationship’, I’ll soon be cashing in my chips, swallowing a bitter dose of hurt and sadness, and moving on. It’s a pity as I really like him. But once that turns to love, it’ll be a pit far darker than a pity.
Weddings weddings weddings. I wish I could say I think they are swell, but I’m not that girl. All day Saturday prior to the momentous event, I was filled with loathing and dread. The sister and I showered, shaved our legs, had panic about what jewelry to wear, and got our shit together enough to be comfortably presentable. Some may argue that we pulled off smashing.
Once our ducks were in a row, we realized that we were starving and probably shouldn’t embark on an hour and forty minute drive with nothing in our bellies, so we snarfed down huge bowls of brown rice and greens. Yay for that. I would have been a surly cunt with a low blood sugar crash on top of a mandatory event that I was none to enthusiastic about.
Nevertheless, I must admit, there were parts I was looking forward to: seeing my niece in a pretty dress, seeing the bride’s gown (I’m ever a ‘girl’ about a pretty dress, and it was indeed gorgeous, and without a stitch of lace.J), seeing a bunch of people, some of whom I last saw at the groom’s first wedding to my sister. So it wasn’t a waste of time and energy at all.
The wedding was at a farm in the Berkshires in southwestern Massachusetts. It was quite lovely. The day was beautiful, though a little warmer than I like days to be. Autumn in New England is quite lovely, even when on the warm side. On the way out to the farm I asked my sister what the name of the farm was, from the back of the car, all I heard was “Dead Meat Farm”. That wasn’t the name of it, but it made us laugh like a bunch of coo-coo birdies. The actual ceremony was held at a meadow clearing on a hillside a small trek away from the barn where the reception was held. The barn is a restored Normandy style barn that is used for events and the farm offers spa and hotel services as well. It’s all very fancy pants, yet down-home rustic. Curious.
I’ll never understand why wedding ceremonies take so much time. It seems like all that needs to be said is
“You in? All in? For ever and with all your heart?”
“And you, same questions.”
“Swap some rings, have a kiss, and get on with it, then.”
Sentimentality really bogs down a simple message. The more flowers and accents, the less sincere it seems. We must bear in mind that I’m a cynic.
It wasn’t my wedding, and they clearly didn’t have a Fresh Hell designed ceremony. The ceremony was long. There was the hullabaloo about the rings and how they were made and then they were sent around to all the attendees to put there special whammy, blessing, prayer, boogers, or whatever they wanted on them before they were exchanged. Several speakers spoke, read poems, passages from books and whatnot. Some vows were spoken, the rings got swapped.
Then they did something really cool. My niece, who was a flower girl and I daresay quite a good’un, was called up to the bride and groom. The bride squatted down and asked my niece to have her as her step-mother, and as a part of the family, and upon accepting, gave my niece a ring with her birthstone. As for joining pre-existing families to a new family unit, it was done with grace. Then the kiss happened and the long processional of the wedding party and all the guests to the barn for cocktails and hors devours whilst the bridal party had sunset pictures snapped. Against everyone’s clever advice, I practiced temperance for most of the evening. Sorry to disappoint, but as Savannah wisely noted in the comments of the previous post, best to keep your tongue in check some days, and this was one of them.
Most of the time, I wanted to disappear, and at one point I did find a quiet patio where no one was daring to venture and I had some peace in the cool evening air. I found myself wishing I had a book to read so that I could really recede into the background. This sort of social engagement often makes me uncomfortable. I never know what to say to people. Small talk is not my forte. Fortunately, I came across some familiar faces, and I had the opportunity to catch up with some friends from about 10 years back who I’d seen very little of in that decade. A little harmless flirting happened as well. Not so bad.
About half way through my time at this shindig, I started feeling comfortable and was able to relax and actually enjoy myself. Perhaps I suffer from some variety of social anxiety disorder. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to just dismiss it all to some peculiar disorder?
When they called everyone in to collect the cards with their table assignments so we could sit down for dinner, I played along and found my card. I was seated with my sister, niece, niece’s best friend and her little sister, and the mother of my niece’s best friend. It was in essence the “kid’s table”. It was also on the third floor of an old open barn. Each floor is a half loft overlooking the floor below and guests were seated on the second and third floors. I’m convinced they put all the sexy people in the rafters, which is exactly why we were seated there. The only problem with the third floor was that it was hotter than Vulcan’s jockstrap.
After a while my sister came to me and pointed to our table assignment cards and said, “I don’t think this is an accident.” On each of our cards was the table assignment . . . Table 13. Totally intentional, and funny as hell.
We left at 10. One of our charges, a one and a half year old, started losing her mind so it was time for us to be on our way. Festivities carried on until 4:30 a.m. for some. I heard rumors of breaking into the kitchen and copious consumption of foodstuffs and vodka. Fantastic stuff! I was sleeping sweetly while the boys were being boys. As I understand it, the next day was a little rough for some of the revelers. Better them than me.
So that was the wedding. It wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated and my sister was strong and beautiful throughout. She probably didn’t even need me, but I’m glad she wanted me by her side.