BACK!
I iz a married woman now.
The honeymoon was nice. Married people sex everyday. Nice dinners. Beach walks. The last few days, all we did was veg in bed and watch Supernatural on DVD, which I am now officially obsessed with. The coolest thing was, yesterday, when we literally only left the room to get food, we were both still happy. The rain was falling, the beach was soaked, but we were thrilled to just chill and watch TV together. As long as we were together.
Such a huge difference from the gotdamned wedding. Which I will now regale for you. Accompanied with photos, as our photographer sent them to me recently. So here.
And I'm putting it under the cut. I will get to all of your posts as soon as I can. There are alot. You guys couldn't slow it down for me while I was gone? Cheez.
I don't know how long this'll be, or how I'll be able to keep it from turning into a rant, but I'll try.
So the morning of, I woke up at exactly 6:30. As a Puerto Rican and Cuban, I am proud of myself for this feat alone.
I woke my mother and cousin, Dani up, and we all packed the place settings (which I had been up till 1:00 putting together) and the favors into a box to put on the tables.
Set up took not even 30 minutes, but as we were finishing up, my mother's phone rings.
"Watch that be your father," she sighed.
And I watched it be my father. Apparently, he was groggy and rather panicked, because the photographer had shown up early while he [my father] was still in his tightie whities.
"We'll be right there," my mother said, exasperated, "we're almost done...what do you MEAN what do you do with him? Give the man a cup of coffee and just wait there for us!"
While she fussed, I put the last placecard at the last seat, and we all trekked home to start getting ready.
When we got back to my parents' house, the photographer and my father--now wearing a shirt--were staring at each other uneasily. I got the feeling when I walked in that the silence had dragged on for at least ten minutes. Thom [the photographer] still did not have any coffee, so my mother had to get it for him.
It was a little early, so I told Thom he'd have to wait until 8:30 before we got any pictures done, as that was when the girls would get there, and we can't very well take pictures of me pretending to get ready with and talk to imaginary people. Well, we could, but it would serve more as a lasting memento of my ever-waning sanity, rather than to one of the most important days of my life.
GRANDCHILD: Grandma, who are you talking to in these pictures?
ME: No one, sweetheart.
GRANDCHILD: Oh. Okaaay...I think I have a math class or a Gameboy class or whatever it is children my age do these days. Want your album back?
ME: No no, honey. It's okay. You enjoy your fake class and just give the album back to the orderly on your way out. I'd take it and give you a hug, but Grandma's special jacket only allows her to hug herself. Love you, my little Cashew....
It would go something like that. It really would.
Anyway.
The girls don't get to my parents' house until around 9:00. Needless to say, I'm antsy and irritated, but I say nothing because I really just want to hurry up and get ready. So we all start on it, and it takes alot of hurried and wild preparation...
Rargh! Zombie!
See these two? They are among the group of cousins that eventually put a huge shit stain on my wedding. The one on the right is my Maid of Honor. Sorry for the spoiler. Just thought that if any of you know any VOODOO....y'know...ahem...
Finally, I get tired of waiting around, because my cousins decide to show up at 10:30 when we have to be at the place at 11:00. They have the nerve to wander around talking and take their good sweet time, so I eventually pull my Bride Weight and tell people I want to go to the venue. My sister-in-law, Jennifer (the blonde putting on makeup in some of the other pictures), who was awesome all day, says okay and starts out the door immediately. My father moves a little slowly, but he finally pulls everyone together who's following us, and we get there with about 30 minutes left. I breathe easy. No harm, no foul.
Speaking of "foul," my photographer was obviously irritated because he felt rushed. Our wedding was four hours, which I thought was plenty of time, but he told us he usually had about an hour between the ceremony and the reception. I didn't say it then, but I would like to now...um....screw that shit. I'm not taking pictures for an hour, and I'm damn sure not making anyone wait an hour to eat. But still...moving on to the ceremony.
I stood in the very spacious, pretty bathroom for 30 minutes in shoes that hurt. My flower girls, Paige and Madison, were my only constant companions. No offense to them, but there is only so much I can talk to seven and eight year olds about before I have to stop myself. My usual sex jokes would not only be lost on them, but also repeated, so I have to behave. And I'm sure they got sick of me trying to come up with stuff other than dolls to talk about. What do kids do these days? Crack? I have no idea, seeing as I have none of my own.
But anyways, the time finally came....
I will interject here to say that,the moment I saw Robert (which is what I'm craning my neck to do here), I started to cry (which is also what I'm starting to do here). He looked so handsome, and it finally dawned on me right there and then that I was finally going to marry him and be with him. And, in a totally un-Arianna moment, I just want to say that I turned into the biggest pile of mush seeing him. That was probably the sweetest moment I've felt so far in this life.
So we started to say our vows...
And then I decided to wing mine, which made me cry even more, because I wanted to mean every word and I did...
Talking from the heart scares me.
Our overall ceremony was, no lie, 4:36. That's four minutes and thirty-six seconds. We wanted it that way, because we'd already been waiting four years. I'll be damned if we were waiting another hour or two. So we finished quick. And then we walked out...
After the kiss, of course. Our first as husband and wife.
It upsets me that none of these pictures look joyous, but here I'd been crying and smiling, which is not a flattering combo, only to turn and see my good friend Moody with the video camera RIGHT HERE. RIGHT HERE NEXT TO MY FACE. ZOOMED UP ON MY UGLY CRYING-AND-SMILING FACE. So I was trying to avoid looking at that.
So we went outside and took a few pictures, which I'm not going to bother showing because they don't help to further the story, and as you can tell I have a terrible time keeping on track as it is. Wait. I want to show you one picture that is absolutely adorable...
I LOVE. Get that? LOVE LOVE LOVE this picture. Adorable as hell, and my man looks so handsome. :)
Anywho. See what I mean?
The party starts, and I'm thinking this is going to be the part where we get to unwind and have fun. We all enter the reception area after being called, and Robert and I have our first dance...
And we kiss, and the world is right, and then I turn from the dance and see...bored faces. And hungry faces. No one looks terribly excited to be there, and there's only the slight murmur of some talking. I decide not to worry about that and sit down. My brother-in-law and...*ahem* Maid of....*cough* Honor did their speeches, and we all get up to get food.
No sooner do I get up to get food that one of my cousins sidles up to the table. She doesn't say hi. She doesn't say "congratulations." She instead leans over the table with a smile that says quite clearly that she is about to tell me something I don't like.
Oh sweet fucking Christ. Not even an hour and drama has reared its ugly head.
After some very weak tries at lulling me into a state of false security, my cousin (whose name was Olivia) leans over the table at me.
"Um, we tried to get some alcohol from the bar and bring it in here, and they locked the doors and told us we couldn't have alcohol in here. Then your father-in-law chewed us out and sat back down but he has a flask! So, is it okay if people drink, like,later?"
I take all of this in. I decide to speak to my father-in-law later, when I can get ahold of a rusty, tetanus infested chainsaw. A fucking flask. Figures.
"Sure," I tell my cousin. Later's fine. What do I care? Of course my idiot mistake was in not asking when "later" was. I assumed she meant after the wedding But oh. Oh no. That would be too respectful of my and Robert's wishes.
After my cousin goes and sits back down, everyone eats. The food was amazing, and I ate a little of everything, so I'd get a taste across the board. Once I'd stuffed myself, I watched everyone else. People were talking more, and some tables really seemed to be warming up to each other. My cousins, aunt, and uncle all looked pissed off, and I suppose they decided to demonstrate this by not speaking to me. That's right. Not once did they come up to say congratulations, not once did THEY come up to ME and say anything to me. The only way I got them to speak to me was by walking up to them and saying hi. They never once approached me. Strike one.
I also realized that NO ONE was dancing. I mean, the DJ was playing good music, and there was a dance floor, but everyone kept giving the same excuse: "It's a fast song. I only dance to slow songs."
WHAT? People, why the hell did you let me pay for a DJ if you're going to just stare at him all slack-jawed?! Finally, I gave up on people and instead joined my cousins, who decided to take full advantage of the music (one of the few things I appreciated them doing)....
...and I started to have fun. I talked to friends I hadn't seen in ages. I ate cake. I danced with my father...
I will also say this about my father...I see other father-daughter dances that are emotional train wrecks. The father is sobbing, the daughter is sobbing, and they're both telling each other how they'll miss each other, which has always seemed ridiculous to me. Our father-daughter dance actually consisted more of my father and I making fun of other people and one another. We laughed and joked alot, and it was more fun that way. I remember telling my father so, too:
"Hey, dad? Thanks for not wussing out and crying or telling me you're going to miss me."
"Why would I miss you? You're not going anywhere. I'll still see you."
"...and even if I did go somewhere, you'll always be my daddy. You're not losing a daughter. You can't lose me."
To which my father reacted with something smart-alecky, and life went on. My father understood, and I appreciated that. My father has always been like a friend to me, and though I tend to forget that about him sometimes, I'll always love him for it.
It was about this point that someone came up to me and began asking me about alcohol. I was surprised. Hadn't we already handled this? Then I was told what was going on...apparently the same family from earlier had tried to tell the people in charge that I had told them it was okay to bring alcohol in once the dancing started. I NEVER said that, and that bitch cousin of mine knew that. So I told the people to lock the doors and to not fall for anymore of that shit. Crisis, I thought, averted.
Well, then my family decided that if they couldn't GET their gin and juice, they'd go to it. My feelings be damned.
So they left. And a couple other tables of people left, saying they had stuff to do. And I started to realize that the room was getting surprisingly empty. And my family, who I'd assumed went out to smoke, still had not come back. That was when I decided to go outside, leave my own party, and find them. They mattered that much to me.
They weren't outside, my big brother Moody (the Marine I'm hugging in the picture above), my cousin Rosamond (who you don't see), and a guy named Daniel were. And they pointed me in the direction of the bar when I asked where my family was.
I felt betrayed, and disgusted, and sickened by that. I actually wasn't sure I believed it right off the bat. So I hoisted my dress up and padded across the emptry parking lot towards the bar. And there they were.
They had the nerve to look surprised when I asked what they were doing.
"Getting a drink, sweetie." my Maid of Honor said fake-sweetly, "We're just having one and then we'll be right in."
I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do. "Well...we're about to throw the bouquet. I was looking for you guys."
"But only single women can catch the bouquet, and none of us are single."
In that moment, my anger built, and I set my jaw. I hoisted my dress back up. "Well, the wedding's over at four. Whenever you're ready." I said coldly. And then I left.
I wasn't going to argue on my wedding day. I wasn't, I wasn't. I wanted to. I wanted to tear them all limb from limb. But I realized that that would be more of a stress on me. So I didn't do anything. And I still kind of wish I could have a do-over, just to say the things I wanted to say.
I went back into the reception area, where now only 15 people were. Everyone else, out of about 70-something, had left. My cousins, aunt, and uncle stayed gone for another 30 minutes. They missed the bouquet toss and the garter toss, and they missed a good bit of what was left of the party. My friends all tried to make me feel better, and I did have more fun once I quit caring whether or not they were there. I still was pissed, though, I just hid it. As a matter of fact, the pictures of us leaving are devoid of any real happiness, because my cousins had the nerve to come back in and try to dance with me as if everything was okay. I did it because I didn't want to start any fistfights between anyone, but I wanted to haul back and knock them all on their asses.
Especially my Maid of Honor. Especially my uncle. Who had the nerve to tell me during the Dollar Dance that I was his favorite and he was proud of me. Not proud enough to honor me over alcohol. Who the FUCK does he think he was kidding?
Anyway, that's all. After we got home and had some Married People sex that blew my mind, I did feel better. We had our first dinner out as husband and wife, and opened our gifts (only three of which were something we actually asked for. The rest--which were from those same cousins--were obviously bought and wrapped by one person, and different names were written on them. It wasn't anything we really wanted. Just something they had lying around. I hate them so much right now. I really do.). We got money, too. That was fucking sweet.
My mother was pissed at my family, and while her anger has abated since then, I still haven't forgiven them, and I won't for awhile. Just seeing their pictures in my wedding album makes me upset. They really screwed up, and I don't want to hear anything from them for awhile.
Oh, by the way? Those family members also tried THREE OTHER TIMES to smuggle alcohol from the bar into the reception. AND that flask they said my father-in-law had? He didn't. He just said something about owning one.
Yeah. I do believe I have a family rift on my hands. Whether they know it or not.
Oh well. Fuck them.
Either way, I'm married now. Mrs. Robert Freeman. Fucking sweet.
Oh, before I go, here are a couple other pictures I wanted to show you. Then I'm done. I swear. Sorry this was so long.
My big brother, Moody, and I.
Done now. Hey, you asked. It's your fault.
Kidding. I love you all.