Okay, just about enough time has passed so that I can consider the following without wincing:
I got publicly betrothed this summer, and in an unpleasantly accurate twist of fate, the run-up to my event was eerily paralleled in the comic strip Achewood. For example, thoughts about dresses, vows, fears about the future, gift registry, fears about the ceremony, catering, the madness inducing lead-up to the day, and the interaction of the guests on the day itself.
Am I R. B. Kazenzakis? Not by any stretch of the imagination. A friend summed up my childhood, noting "you grew up with the Huxtables." Sure, there were fewer adorable children, no well-meaning neighbors, and much, much more swearing, but he's not far off. However, that didn't stop me from worrying that the caterer was going to fuck everything up at the last minute, that the ringbearer was going to wet his pants, or that I was going to preview the rest of my life through a haze of misunderstood advice from well-meaning strangers and reach a technically correct but functionally wrong conclusion.
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3 comments:
I'm happy that you're now enjoying hot porky cha-cha and sassafras doodads galore, but, um, didn't you get married and not betrothed?
It was all a lie! A farce!
I've been had!
http://cakerockstheparty.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/feels-good.jpg
Dammit, Ivana's right. I just can't think of any more clever (?) ways to imply a wedding without using the word...
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