Assuming this so-called “calendar” is accurate, in exactly one month, I’ll be getting good and truly married. In some ways, this doesn’t mark a particularly big change in our relationship*, but I’m still as excited as…huh, have you ever noticed that most cliched, figurative expressions for “excited” or “nervous” haven’t aged well? Anyway, it’s all going to be lovely. We’ll have all the traditional things: lobsters, bat skeletons, gilded horseshoe crabs, Lil Jon, Flex Mentallo, Man of Muscle Mystery. Oh, I can not wait to show you my eye patch which is on its way from literally halfway around the globe. If a man can’t be a super-villain on his wedding, when can he be?
Which is to say, this ceremony is going to be very “us.”
I should be nervous, and I am, at least a little. Pulling off events like this isn’t my forte, but Nicole is aces at stuff like this. What I’m not worried about is committing to love this woman for as long as the both of us live. That part’s easy as breathing.
We’re at the point in the planning where the thing has its own momentum. The roller coaster has crested the first big hill and no force on this planet is going to stop it from going now. We could clench our teeth and hold on to the bar for all we’re worth, but knowing us, we’ll throw our hands in the air, laugh, and scream like the lunatics we are.
One month.
Wow
* According to our insurance company, we’ve been married for years now.