Aw, here it goes.

I’m out of excuses not to think about/talk about/start vaguely planning a wedding. Shit.

Quite recently, two good friends of Panda’s and mine K & C, tied the knot! (Congrats, kids. <3) We were privileged and honored to be a part of their beautiful, special day. There were a few moments on said day in which I started thinking to myself, hey, this whole wedding thing could be pretty cool. Super sweet party. Everyone you love. It was enough to make me rethink begging Panda to consider an elopement. Their wedding really was lovely, and the planning for it was of great benefit to me because it was an excellent excuse to avoid thinking about/talking about my own. When you have friends who are getting married, it is super rude to be like “oh yeah, that’s nice, AT MY WEDDING BLAH BLAH BLAH.” I really felt for K and the relentless questioning about music and caterers and dresses and hair and various other shenanigans. She is more gracious than I, as my replies would’ve leaned towards “shut up, fucko.”

Once again, I stress to you, I am super excited to be married to this bro. However, I am indecisive and things you don’t get do-overs at make me very, very nervous. I am also pretty complacent, so if 6 things out of 10 go wrong and the day’s still salvageable, I’ll be fine, but if everyone around me is freaking out about how all these things going wrong means I Am Terrible And Incompetent, I will want to crawl into a hole and die. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty organized person, I just hate freaking out about shit. I’ve served my time as a high strung individual, and would rather do everything in my power to make things laid back. I don’t like bickering and stress, and it seems like the entire modus operandi of weddings is to make everyone freak the fuck out about everything. I don’t really know how to turn this paragraph around and cover up how terrifying this entire thing actually is to me with a joke. Ha, ha!

So, I joined Pinterest. Ha, ha!

This is a social phenomenon I’ve resisted for some time, mostly out of apathy, but also because I just don’t ca- wait. Also because I disregard most New Things by default unless it is proven to me that they are somehow useful, because apparently I’m elderly. Get off my fucking lawn. Anyway. One of my oldest and dearest friends, Tash, is all up in Pinterest’s business; I asked her the other day if it was at all worth my time, and she informed me that there was some neat stuff there, and sent me an invite. I joined under the guise of stockpiling more great sounding recipes I’ll probably never make because they’re expensive/not paleo/take more than 10 minutes, but I immediately went to the wedding section, because looking at pictures of wedding stuff is the internet equivalent of dipping my toe into the vast pool that is planning a wedding. Sort of. Flowers are pretty! Anyway.

One cool/actually helpful/semi anxiety reducing thing about this decision is that by quantifying all the various shit I like in image form on a page in front of my face, I have a better understanding of what my taste actually is. Apparently, I like vintage/romantic/flowery/simple. Deep down, I think I always knew this, and it makes me a little sad that it took a social networking site to plow through my flawed, spastic psyche and get back to basics. I’m the world’s shittiest flower child hippie. Deep breaths. Things could always be worse. 4chan.

4chan.

Weddings are scary.

Gender stereotypes would have you believe that little girls dream of their perfect fairytale wedding every moment of every day, starting at the moment at which they can first conceptualize that they will someday be able to lock down another human being and legally bind that human being to do their bidding(read: Living The Dream). In a lot of cases, this is true to one degree or another. I was, in fact, a little girl once, and I have, in fact, had many a fantasy about pretty white dresses and flowers.

The thing about my fantasies is that they usually involve having something that takes a great amount of effort just sort of happen as though it floated from the sky on a cloud. In my fantasies, I never had to pick a season to get married in, or a caterer, or flowers. They were just there, glorious and true, as tiny bluebirds put on my veil and placed a flute of champagne into my graceful, waiting hand. Ah, yes, what a delight. Unfortunately, my fantasies lied to me and stomped on my dreams. Weddings take time, and money, and effort- oh noes!- and while I am pretty good about putting forth effort despite my fancy-free fantasies, I have no clue where to start and know very few married ladies who planned their own weddings. I’m delightfully awkward, so the idea of attending big events and meeting vendors and even making new friends who also happen to be getting married is pretty damn scary to me.

I don’t even think I’ve wrapped my mind around the reality surrounding the big shiny ring on my finger yet. I’ve had it for a month, and I still do a double take when I seriously sit down and think about the fact that this ring symbolizes the fact that I’m going to marry the Panda, who is one of my best friends and one of the most awesome human beings I’ve ever come across. Weddings might be scary, but that part- the important part that goes well beyond that big, fancy, expensive party; the part that, by all logic and reason SHOULD be scary- is AWESOME.

I dunno why the forever part isn’t so scary. Maybe it’s because it comes so slowly, maybe because here and now and standing still, I can’t see or feel the full force of its mass. I don’t expect perfection and ease from it, that would be foolish, but there is a distinct absence of fear, and it is worth noting that is difficult to force yourself to be afraid of something that, for whatever reason, does not scare you.

So I’m getting married. Yeah. That’s a thing.