Post-9/11 explains so many annoyances of my life – I mean it’s the most alluded to fear-mongering event in my generation, like Vietnam or the Kennedy Assassination are for my parents’, or the Great Wars for my grandparents… Defining moments in history that changed life as everyone knew it. However, I don’t think 9/11 deserves such power.
‘Cause I was gonna be your forever,
You were gonna be my wife.
We didn’t know any better,
Didn’t have a clue about life.
But I was what you wanted, you were what I needed,
And we could meet in between.
We were gonna be the greatest love story this town had ever seen…
“Isn’t it weird how everyone says ‘congratulations’ when they find out you’re getting married?” my childhood best friend asked me, after congratulating me. “I mean, it isn’t like I did something special, or achieved anything?”
“Yeah, so weird,” I agreed. “If anything I feel like saying, ‘Congratulations to me? No, no, congratulations to you! Now that I’m getting married I expect I’ll be less of a bitch.’”
The next thing everyone wants to know of course, is how he did it.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to edit the story of how we met for our friends and family to read on The Knot… Especially since the man I’m marrying is the son of a son of son of a son of a preacher man. No, I didn’t repeat myself, his father is literally the third generation of preacher men. (Is that the correct plural – like saying “Priai,” in LA speak?)
The last blog post I did was a year ago, and it was all about how I decided involving myself with another human – even by the loose means of casual dating – was too much work. So what’s kept me so annoyingly busy? Well, of course irony has. Not a week after I posted Calling In The One, I flew out to be an old flame’s wedding date & came home as his girlfriend.
With the drop of the bouquet I was, (dun-dun-dun)… In a relationship.