10 Years

10 years ago today, my parents paid a ton of money for an event I barely remember (which they told me I'd barely remember and they were right and I wish we'd just taken my dad up on his offer of cash and a nice quiet elopement and I'll probably say the same thing to Pippa in 20 or 25 years and she won't listen to me, either).

Here are the things I do remember:

1. It was hot. Like effing surface of the sun hot. Okay it was like 105, but that is plenty hot enough, thankyouverymuch, especially when the dressing rooms aren't air conditioned and your friggin' eyeliner keeps melting.

2. I got stage fright as we lined up to go into the sanctuary and thought, "Why on earth am I doing this?! I could be on a beach somewhere with a pretty piece of paper saying I'm married to this person without having to talk in front of everybody I know!"

Gaaaaaah! All the peoples!

3. Dylan was short (he's still short, though he prefers the term "of average height", but let's be honest, that's only true if half the male population kneels). Because of Dylan's...ahem...average-heightedness, I could see all of his groomsmen over his head and while I don't remember anything Dylan said to me during the ceremony or how he looked when he said it, I remember his groomsmen's expressions vividly. Particularly intense are the memories of his brother's goofy smile and our friend Nolan's extremely solemn look, which was hilarious and nearly had me giggling because I'd never seen Nolan look the least bit solemn about anything.

4. Our caterer was, well...she was a bitch. There's really no other word for this woman who yelled at everyone from her own staff to the church's property manager to my own mother and served things at the wrong time and generally caused a ruckus when she should have been invisible (I'm not going all Downton Abbey here, I was a catering assistant for a spell and we were taught to be invisible).

5. Dylan's brother gave a toast that I was certain would never end. Poor kid. Owing to the fact that Dylan and I got married right out of the cradle and our siblings are younger than us, I think he was not quite 16 at the time and asking a not quite 16 year old to give a toast is kind of cruel. Nevertheless, I remember the looks on the other groomsmen's faces (but again, not Dylan's. What was I doing staring at his groomsmen this entire wedding? The only explanation I have is that he was squished in right next to me at the table and I had to turn my head at an awkward angle to see him at all, whereas I had a clear line of sight down the table) like, "Dude, wrap it up already."

6. I didn't get any of the lemon cake that I specifically requested. Dylan didn't get any of the other flavor (I can't even remember what it was, though we carefully chose it after tasting a dozen other flavors) that he specifically requested. This seems like some sort of vague metaphor for marriage. We both got cake but it was the wrong kind.

7. The DJ completely ignored my playlist and do not playlist and pretty much went with generic white people wedding music. I remember glaring pointedly at him when he began playing "Blister in the Sun" and him shrugging his shoulders like, "Gotta give the people what they want". No. Gotta give the bride what she wants. Humph!

And that's it! This happened, although I don't remember it:

Hey Dad, sorry about the whole having to buy a suit and every-friggin'-thing else in this room when I'll have forgotten every detail by tomorrow.

Also this:

I'm glad you're not shoving this cake I didn't want in my face, but where the hell is my lemon cake?

At some point, we left in our rented car and went back to my apartment, took a shower and took off for our honeymoon and that was all she wrote.

My parents told me when I got engaged that the wedding is only one day and it's the marriage that counts. A decade full of great and not-so-great memories after that day I don't really remember, I'm inclined to agree with them. In case this isn't blatantly obvious to everyone I know already, I'm going to say it now: I got very, very, oh-so-unbelievably lucky. It is often said that marriage is work - hard work, even - it's never been work with Dylan (okay maybe occasionally when we've tried to play board games together, but other than that it's been pretty smooth sailing). I suspect that that's because he's doing all the heavy lifting. I cannot be the easiest person to live with. Heck, half the time I don't even want to live with myself. I've been lucky enough not to have found the end of his patience and kindness yet.


Also, the phrase makes me want to vomit with it's clichedness, but I really did marry my best friend. We pretty much only ever want to talk to each other. That's hampered us a bit in the extramarital socialization department, but it means that there are plenty of evenings we happily pass just chatting on the couch. We've discovered that it's a hell of a lot easier to pick up someone's dirty socks for the umpteenth time or drag someone kicking and screaming out of bed in the morning if that person is your best friend and you remember just as you're about to murder them that if you do no one will ever make you laugh as hard or find random tidbits about biology interesting.


We are statistically even more likely to divorce than the average couple because we're raising a special needs child, but I feel very confident saying that that ain't gonna happen. We're a team. We almost always agree on a strategy before even talking about it. We take each other's needs into consideration when making decisions without even thinking about it, and we just plain like each other.


Happy 10th Anniversary, my love! Here's to the next 10 :).

"Oh my God I'm so hot right now." "I know, right?"