Weddings, arrgh!

Never in my wildest grown-up dreams did I see myself walking down the aisle in a flowing white gown to be tied up for the rest of my life. But guess what? It did happen to me. Well, save for the gown—I made sure it was ecru, not white.

So what happened?

For one, I wasn't into the marriage bandwagon. It was nothing I was totally opposed to but something I wasn't hot about either. If it came my way, maybe, why not? If it didn't, it wouldn't have killed me for sure.

Second, my idea of a wedding involving myself should I decide to make a go for it was nothing fancy—a quiet civil ceremony with family, a select group from first degree relatives and not just close but the closest of friends.

So what happened?

My wedding, far from what I wanted it to be, was the result of a compromise. It was something that I could have done without but did for reasons my daughter Indie should hear someday.

I did go through the motions of playing the bride-to-be. The dress. The entourage. The invitations. The giveaways. The cake. The guest list. This last part was really taxing. Imagine a wedding for 200 guests! That was too much for me already, considering that more than three-fourths of the invitees were people I did not know or particularly care about.

So what happened?

The day turned out to be beautiful, a show actually, but beautiful still. I did not need to psyche myself to look happy. For I was happy, really. Hell, I thought, why fret? A wedding was just what it was—a wedding. Just a day in the life I vowed to share with the person I married. And it was only the first day!