How the hell do people afford these things?
october 15th
My parents are holding their position—no more money. Stephen’s parents are taking their cue—no more money.
Apparently the Stewarts are so busy arguing over the terms of their divorce that the mere mention of money sends shivers down their spines.
Well, they’ll be sure to shiver when Stephen and I are married at the homeless shelter at Port Authority.
october 17th
Kate expressed concern about my wedding today. She claims that it’s consuming too much of her time. She’s fallen behind on her filing, her typing, her interoffice memos…and Barry’s starting to complain that she isn’t paying enough attention to his needs.
I don’t get it. I’m an easygoing boss. She should be happy I’m not asking her to retype my file labels in a more “stylish” font like Barry did last month. Besides, if she’s got time to give herself a manicure in the middle of the day, then she’s got time to call the Chambers of Commerce for all the metropolitan areas in the greater tristate region, in search of a potential reception venue.
I know how this sounds. I know it sounds bad.
The greater tristate region? Who the hell wants to get married there? But I’m afraid it’s come to this. No matter how creative I get there’s just no way $10,000 will pay for a unique and creative eighty-five-person wedding in New York City.
Stamford, Connecticut, still beats my hometown. Trust me.
october 20th
Our parents have given us the names of people they want to invite to our wedding. All 135 of them!!! My parents had twenty-six, Mr. Stewart had eighteen, and Mrs. Stewart rang in with ninety-one. We don’t even know most of these people. For instance, who the hell is Hans Lindstrom? And how are we supposed to pay for his lobster risotto with a budget of $10,000?!
october 23rd
Mandy, who is still perfectly tan from her honeymoon in Hawaii, just told me that she and Jon exchanged engagement gifts. Who knew people even did this? Apparently BB discusses this custom in Chapter Sixteen. I’m still on Chapter Eight.
Well, there’s no way Stephen and I can afford engagement gifts right now. He has to save money for his tuxedo, I have to save money for my stress management seminar, and we both have to save money for Hans Lindstrom’s lobster risotto!
I wonder if he’d like a subscription to Round-Up.
october 24th
I had lunch with our staff writer Julie Browning. She’s spent the last two months doing an article on karaoke’s impact on New York nightlife, and we needed to hammer out a new angle since the latest issue of Glamour featured the exact same story. Did I mention that Round-Up is New York’s least read magazine?
While we were eating, Julie noticed my engagement ring. Turns out emerald is her favorite stone. Classy lady. We started to talk about marriage and life and work. Julie used to be a senior editor at a magazine in D.C. I always assumed that she’d left because she preferred the freedom of a writer’s lifestyle. WRONG. Seems that once her boss got wind of her plans to marry she was surreptitiously edged out of her job. She was no longer invited to big corporate meetings, she was left out of the loop on major issues, and her story ideas were routinely passed over.
I told her that I wasn’t worried about that since, unlike her socially conservative magazine in D.C., Round-Up is a very liberal glossy. But Julie wouldn’t waver. She kept warning me to watch my back. “People assume that marriage, specifically being a WIFE, will affect your dedication to the job. They assume you’ll devote your energies to your husband’s career and turn your own into dilettantism. And of course, they assume you’ll be quitting any day to have six kids.”
I suddenly flashed to Barry, Carol Brady, and the arrangement of lilies. The flowers of death and funerals! What a fool I’d been! And when I returned to the office, there he was—Mr. Bridal Booster himself—eyeing my corner office.
Rank with the stench of coup d’état.
october 25th
Kate’s had no luck with her search. She’s called all the major metropolitan areas in the tristate region in search of a reception venue in our price range that can accommodate anywhere from 85 to 220 people (we’ve yet to settle this issue with our parents). Apparently she’s come up empty-handed. Or at least she says she has. I doubt she truly applied herself to the task. I can’t help but think that if I’d asked her to find the address of Ricky Martin’s summer home or Brad Pitt’s shoe size she would have had better luck.
But I can’t complain too much. I’ve got to keep a low profile on my wedding. Julie’s cautionary tale really spooked me and I don’t want to provide anyone, especially Barry, with ammunition to take my job.
So I spent the rest of the day reworking an article on the efforts of hot-dog vendors to unionize.
october 27th
Bianca Sheppard called me last night. I’ve known Bianca since the third day of college, when she hip-checked me across the room while charging toward our handsome dorm adviser. To this day she swears she tripped. Since then she’s been Bianca Sheppard, Douglas, Izzard, Santos, and Rabinowitz. Marriage seems to agree with her. Repeatedly. Hence her nickname “Repeat Offender,” or “RP” for short. She marries, it lasts about two years, then she decides it’s not what she wants and splits. A month later she’s getting married again.
At a certain point, going to her weddings stopped feeling like romantic unions and started feeling like biannual wine tastings. Needless to say, she was the last person I’d think of for wedding advice.
But a natural resource for wedding dresses. She knew exactly where to go. After all, she’s already had four.
october 28th—12:30 A.M.
I’ve become an insomniac.
Which is crazy, because I’ve never had trouble sleeping. Back in college I had to chew espresso beans in order to stay awake. But now the minute my eyes shut my mind races—venues, menus, bridesmaid, bands. Bands! I’ve got to ask Stephen if he’s started to look for a band.
Breathe. I must remember to breathe.
But not Stephen. Somehow he’s managing to breathe and sleep. Ever since the engagement we’ve been trying to spend each night together. Usually at my house since I need more stuff in the morning. It’s a strange sensation to see him lying next to me—his adorable little snores, the cute way he drapes his arm over my chest—and to realize that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this man. Every night for the rest of my life I’ll roll over and see him.
How the hell did I get so lucky?
november 1st
Last night we went to Larry and Mitch’s Halloween party. Larry went as a groom and Mitch went as a bride. They did it to needle Stephen, who thought it was hysterical. I thought it was totally obnoxious.
STEPHEN
Come on. He’s even wearing a garter belt. You’ve got to admit it’s pretty funny.
There was nothing funny about the fact that Mitch had a wedding dress before I did. Besides, most brides wax their backs before the big day.
ME
STEPHEN
I admit that borders offensive, but you have to understand it’s their way of showing support. They dressed up for us.
I could tell Stephen was trying to endear his Neanderthal pals to me. But it wasn’t working. They weren’t carnie freaks passing through town in a traveling show.
The show’s permanent. They’re here to stay.
Stephen wrapped his arm around my waist and gave me a hug.
STEPHEN
You have to remember, they’ve never been wildly in love. Larry hasn’t had a date in over a year because he’s too nervous to call a woman. And Mitch is so insecure that he’ll sleep with anyone with a futon.
That’s half of New York. Suddenly the article we did last May on the rise of venereal disease was starting to make sense.
STEPHEN
Trust me. Once they’re more comfortable around you they’ll start to relax and show you their more interesting side. I swear it’s there.
ME
That’d be a lot easier to believe if Mitch was wearing underwear.
As I pointed across the room, Stephen saw what I did—the bride sitting on the sofa, straddling a giant bong, giving everyone a glimpse at his full-frontal.
november 3rd
Today at the staff meeting Barry made a not-so-subtle remark about the “Faces in the City” issue being behind schedule.
Which it’s not. I’ve got it all in my head. I just need to commit it to paper, have Kate type it up, and get Mr. Spaulding’s approval before distributing it throughout the office.
The issue focuses on ten of the city’s most influential and intriguing residents. So far I’ve come up with nine. I’m certain the last one will come to me any day now. I’ve done an enormous amount of research, but I’ve been stuck on number ten ever since the Concessions Stand Proposal. And since it’s my first issue as editor, I want it to shine. I want it to have my distinctive mark. Especially now that Barry’s on the prowl.
I assured everyone that they’d have my complete list of ten “Faces” within the week.
november 5th
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’ve spent the last three months trying to pretend it didn’t matter. But it does. So I finally broke down and asked Stephen why he chose the candy line of a stinky movie theater on Broadway to ask me the most important question of our entire lives.
The minute I asked I knew I’d done something horribly wrong. He looked like I’d told him the NBA Championships had been canceled.
STEPHEN
I was trying to be romantic. Don’t you remember? We had our first kiss on the candy line of that stinky movie theater.
Oh, God. He’s right.
STEPHEN
We were waiting to buy popcorn and all of a sudden I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to kiss you. You were just so beautiful.
I remember that kiss. Pure spontaneity. It made me tingle from my head to my toes. It was the nicest kiss I ever got. And I had entirely forgotten about it.
But not Stephen. He made the world’s most romantic gesture by proposing to me at the very same spot as that fabulous kiss and I screwed it all up by complaining. My fiancé may defy his gender’s genetic coding with his sensitivity, his tenderness, and his affection, but I’ve disgraced mine by acting like such a GUY!
How can he ever forgive me? How can I ever forgive myself?
november 6th
I’m assuming Stephen still wants to marry me despite the fact that I’m a heartless bitch, because he’s been arguing with his parents about their outrageous guest lists for our wedding. He’s managed to get his dad’s list down to ten, but his mom is still hovering at sixty-five—including the ever-popular Hans Lindstrom, who, it turns out, is her optometrist and favorite client. She redid his cabin in the Adirondacks last spring.
If I were the one doing the arguing I’d point out that $5,000 buys a limited number of seats to our nuptial celebration. And that the only venue we’ll be able to afford with that budget is the school auditorium in Love Canal.
But then, that’s me. Stephen’s got a whole other way of handling things. Being a software developer/computer programmer, he focuses on the “logic” of the situation. Logically speaking, would Hans really be insulted if he weren’t invited?
For the record—the answer was yes.
november 10th
I presented my list of “Faces” to Mr. Spaulding today. He was thrilled with my choices. Particularly number ten—Reverend Dai-Jung Choi, a minister from the Unified Church who’s married over four thousand New York–area couples in the last twenty years.20
* * *
20 And who’s cited in the index of BB as an authority on wedding legalities.
november 11th
The guest list debacle rages on. My parents are down to ten, Mrs. Stewart’s holding at twenty, and Mr. Stewart has stopped at five. Unfortunately those five include Misty and two of her relatives. Stephen is furious. He’s argued all week with his father, but Mr. Stewart won’t budge. To him, accepting Misty’s relatives at our wedding is synonymous with accepting Misty as his lover.
Well, Stephen doesn’t accept Misty, and the mere act of Mr. Stewart referring to her as his “lover” made Stephen physically ill—and has set Mrs. Stewart on a rampage. First she told Mr. Stewart’s college alumni magazine that he left her for a man. Now she’s threatening to set fire to the wooden elf he spent years carving and which, being in the backyard, qualifies as her property. This was the first I’d heard about an elf statue. Stephen says it’s beyond ugly but that his mother kept it all these years for sentimental reasons. Now she wants to torch it.
It reminded me of the ice rose/human brain that Stephen carved for me. Apparently a lack of artistic talent runs in the family. Thankfully Stephen’s got the sense to work in a temporary medium.
And while I have to assume that our guest list won’t come down much below the current 120, Chapter Nineteen of BB claims that an average of 25 percent of invitees will be unable to attend the wedding. This leaves us at 90, which is 20 more than we originally wanted but 130 less than when we started this debate, so I won’t complain.
Official THINGS TO DO List
1. Choose wedding date
2. Tell boss wedding date
3. Vacation time for honeymoon
4. Decide on honeymoon
5. Get minister
6. Choose reception venue
7. Make guest list
8. Choose maid of honor
9. Choose best man
10. Register for gifts
11. Arrange for engagement party
12. Buy engagement ring
13. Buy wedding rings
14. Buy wedding dress
15. Choose maid of honor dress
16. Order wedding cake
17. Hire caterer
18. Hire band for reception
19. Order flowers for ceremony
20. Buy shoes
21. Plan rehearsal dinner
22. Invites to rehearsal dinner
23. Hire musicians for ceremony
24. Decide on dress code
25. Get marriage license
26. Hire videographer
27. Hire photographer
28. Order table flowers
29. Order bouquets
30. Order boutonnieres for men
31. Order nosegays for women
32. Order invitations
33. Decide on wine selection
34. Postage for invitations
35. Choose hairstyle and makeup
36. Buy gifts for attendants
37. Buy thank-you notes
38. Announce wedding in newspaper
39. Buy headpiece
40. Buy traveler’s checks for honeymoon
41. Apply for visas
42. Get shots and vaccinations
43. Order tent if necessary
44. Order chairs/tables if necessary
45. Make budget
46. Divide expenses
47. Make table-seating charts
48. Choose bridesmaid dress
49. Decide on menu
50. Decide on hors d’oeuvres
51. Decide on dinner-service style
52. Decide on staff-guest ratio
53. Decide seated or buffet
54. Reserve vegetarian meals
55. Reserve band/photographer/videographer meals
56. Make photo list
57. Choose hotel for wedding night
58. Hire limo for church-reception transport
59. Buy guest book for reception
60. Find hotel for out-of-towners
61. Decide on liquor selection
62. Hire bartenders
63. Verify wheelchair accessibility
64. Choose processional music
65.
Choose recessional music
66. Choose cocktail music
67. Choose reception music
68. Choose ceremony readings
69. Prepare birdseed instead of rice
70. Schedule manicure/pedicure/wax
november 14th
Were less than seven months away from our wedding and we still don’t have a venue. I’m afraid it’s time to face the music. Even Prudence has that “all right, already” look.
We’ll have to get married at one of our parents’ houses.
Since Mr. Stewart now lives in a singles complex, I’m ruling him out immediately. In theory, we could get married at my parents’ house, but I don’t see why we should since Mrs. Stewart’s house is bigger, more beautiful, and infinitely more comfortable for a wedding. After all, she’s got a tennis court, and two bathrooms on the first floor.
november 15th
Stephen refuses to ask his mother if we can get married at her house. He said the last thing he wants to deal with is his mother’s insanity. He’s worried that she’ll smother us with questions, concerns, and demands and that she’d make everyone, especially him, miserable.
Not to mention the fact that she’d sooner eat Chuffy with a knife and fork than allow Misty and two of her relatives into the house.
I reminded Stephen that we are now six months and eighteen days away from our wedding, without a place to hold the reception. But he wouldn’t budge.
Now I know how Joseph and Mary felt.
november 18th
After combing through bridal magazines I decided to begin shopping for the most important, most photographed, most expensive item of clothing I will ever wear once in my life—my wedding dress.