Wedded Bliss

My days as a vibrant, single man with fleeting hair but personality to burn have come to an end. It was a good run - a near three-decade-long stretch of hopeless crushes, first kisses and lost phone numbers. I have ceased being a person of independent thought and free will and have instead metamorphosed into, I’m reading from a manual, “half of a collective unit, one where thought and action is now a shared responsibility to better preserve the harmonious union we have selected to live the rest of our lives as part of.” In short, I got married.

The aforementioned “union” capped a whirlwind year of endless planning, negotiating and consoling. (“Of course I still want to marry you, sweetie; of course I’ll wear a tux.”) The first eight hours of our engagement were a time of overwhelming emotions and endless possibilities. From there we sharpened our pencils, opened Excel, punched a clock and began the time-honored process of building the firm of Husband and Wife.

Nothing can happen for the first three months of an engagement for this is when the ring goes on tour. A gaggle of personnel show up at your doorstep - roadies, logistical experts, cackling girlfriends, etc. They place the ring in a crate, haul it down the stairs and secure it to the back of a flatbed truck. Then it and your fiance set out across the country visiting every person she and her parents have ever met in their lifetimes. You get pictures every couple of weeks, a progress report charting their current location in relation to the official itinerary and occasionally you’ll read a blurb in the paper or spot a glimpse of them on the nightly news. When your fiance finally returns home she looks nothing like you remember and the diamond now resembles a shard of rock candy.

Now that you’re a happy unit again the planning of the actual ceremony can begin. First you choose a date - usually one at least a year or so off. (You gotta have time to really be sold on the idea, right?) From there it’s the location – something close so your inebriated guests can make it home safely.

Then there’s the music. I always envision for-hire disc jockeys as starving college kids trying to muster a few dollars together in between stipends from Mom and Dad. Boy, was I off. Spinning music is not only a venerable career it’s about as lucrative as being a doctor or investment banker. The one we visited lived in a sprawling split-level Spanish-style compound in south county complete with a cabin cruiser in the driveway and soundproof studio nestled neatly inside the garage. We sat next to the washing machine, our DJ behind his custom spin table, microphone in hand, and were dazzled for the next half hour with dancing strobe lights and dead-on impressions of Sinatra, Mathis and Tony Bennett. From there he thanked us for coming, pressed a button on his console and within seconds someone appeared to escort us from the premises. I bet he orders dinner the same way when working late: “Turkey pot pie.” Too cool.

Once the ceremony’s set you can focus on the registry. Now my wife and I got married in our mid-thirties and pretty much had already amassed all the household necessities a couple requires when first starting out. I’m thinking - sweet, we can get a plasma TV, new golf clubs, maybe even TiVo. Again, way off. I was not aware of the rule that states “When getting married never settle for one when you can have quadruple.” Wine glasses, bed sheets, cutlery, towels, vases, oh the vases. And picture frames – oh the humanity. We’ve got so many picture frames we’re going to have to adopt just to fill them all.

Before you know it the special day has arrived. The sun is out, the birds are chirping and all the people your parents ever met are waiting to introduce themselves to you. My wife and I were told early on we could each invite five friends (Best Man and Maid of Honor included). The rest of the seats were reserved for people who had missed the 2003 Engagement Ring Tour. But on your wedding day everyone is family and as the champagne flows and the hours seem to hurry by you begin to look back fondly on all the little things that got you to this point and ahead to all the bigger things awaiting your lives together. That and the hopes you’ll never have to duplicate the last 15 months again in your lifetime. (Of course I’m glad we got married, honey.)