Day 7 – We Have a Keyboard

1. Why did I think numbering each day would be a good idea? It’s nearly impossible to keep up. It was a terrible idea. I’ve made a huge mistake.

2. I have a keyboard. It may not be as exciting as I thought.  More on that later.

This wedding almost makes me feel pregnant. My hormones are all over the place. Last Thursday I walked in the house after work and approached my beautiful fiancée  in the kitchen where she had obviously been working incredibly hard to have dinner ready for me and said “I don’t think this wedding is a good idea.”

I’m a fucking dick.

Obviously she was not thrilled with what I had just said and I quickly became a pathetic pile of sobs. She consoled me and I pulled myself together. I got to spend the weekend ignoring wedding responsibilities and focused all energy on Steph’s birthday. We paintballed which was the 4th time for me and I’ll be honest, I like it less and less. And I didn’t like it all that much to begin with. So really I just sort of hate it.

Sidebar: this keyboard thinks every word is better abbreviated (I type too fast) and my neighbor listens to crappy music. Going back to the touch screen. Ah yes. All of my problems have been magically solved.

I was watching Jane the Virgin.
I was watching Jane the Virgin.

Anyways, I agreed to this silly paint balling thing because I’m an amazing partner….Jokes. I agreed because I knew I would be hated by a plethora of people, namely Steph, if I bailed. Also FOMO rules my life. Google that shit if you don’t know what it means. It’s 2016. Acronyms. So I went and it was a grand time and then Sunday we cooked some really amazing food and a good time was had by all. Not to mention my Lord Chamberlain (aka bridesmaid) John was in town. I think this wedding is happening in large part because of him. I should consider renaming him fairy godfather (must remember this for future offspring).

So I was distracted by the fun and all was good. I spent my lunch break on Monday looking at wedding dresses online. I had already booked two appointments to go shopping at the end of the month when my friend (and bridesmaid) Claire comes to town and also Steph’s aunt Janice (she might also be a fairy godmother). I had asked Steph to call one of the places for me to figure out what their price range is. I should mention that it sounds like I asked her to call because I was so busy at work that I didn’t have time. In reality, I was too embarrassed to ask for fear that I would realize they were out of my budget. I was right. I sheepishly emailed “Betsy” and asked her to please cancel my appointment. I was prepared to come up with an incredibly dramatic excuse for when she asked why I had to cancel. Something like, “My cat ate all my credit cards.”

She didn’t ask.

This filled me with anxiety. Despite the fact that I have seen many dresses under $500 that look beautiful, I felt like a plebeian. Not that there’s anything actually wrong with plebeians, they were a perfectly fine group of people. Some Romans might have disagreed but honestly fuck those guys. Those guys didn’t have to build their own tents and could probably afford ten thousand dollar dresses. Or ya know, whatever the equivalent was. So I’m feeling a bit anxious which is never a good thing for me. But I really like myself so to make matters worse I decide to start envisioning the dress shopping. I should stop to mention that I NEVER go shopping. Unless it’s for a singular event and even then I need a serious push. I’ve only really ever gone shopping with my mother. She is the perfect shopping companion because besides the fact that she would pay for everything (including lunch at Nordstroms) she would decide when it was time to add to my wardrobe (Read: five shirts and a pair of pants), help me pick clothes out and sit patiently as I tried everything on. Then, as best shopping companions do, she would tell me what looked horrendous on me and would push it to the side. I was allowed to be selfish during my turn and I didn’t feel guilty because she’s my mother. So now I have to go dress shopping. I have asked Steph at least 20 times if she’s very positive that she can’t go with me. She has assured me she cannot. I have assured her that I will have a meltdown in the middle of David’s Bridal and they will refuse me service which means I will without a doubt end up like Ariel in a white piece of canvas (or is it tarp?). Mmm. I actually think I might skip all the tantrums and go straight for that. Dye my hair red. Lose my voice. Rock a nice snarfblatt. The point of this story is to tell you that I spent an hour crying quietly at my desk at work because I’m anticipating that dress shopping will be awful. I know all of this goes back to my mother and my horrible depression that stems from her lack of presence. But that is what therapy is for. And not to brag, but this new co-pay has me at $6.25 a session. So you know I’m going all the time. #mentalhealth

Jump to today: I heard back from two bridal shops, I set up appointments, perused more dresses for about 30 minutes and felt excited. I have no idea what changed between yesterday and today. It’s hard to keep up with my emotions and even harder for Steph. We’re trying to take advantage of the good days. We were very productive tonight and I kept my spirits up the whole time. I even baked her a birthday cake. Albeit a few days late but I don’t think she’s one to argue a drawn out birthday.

I do have a final thought of the day: I asked Steph if my dress needs to be white. We keep wondering if our dresses might clash. I feel super convinced that that’s not possible but everyone else seems pretty convinced that we should have someone look at both. I tried to google “two lesbians in wedding dresses.” You know why I google searched this? BECAUSE THERE WILL BE TWO WOMEN WHO HAPPEN TO BE LESBIANS (sort of) IN WEDDING DRESSES. we are not butch. there will be no suits or ties or tuxes. just two very pretty dresses so please show me that as an option instead of a nice vest paired with cute dress shoes next to a dress. Those brides are beautiful but not what I’m looking for.

ok. It’s 11:30pm and I think the asshole upstairs is drilling something into the wall so I’m going to grab my broom and start banging the shit out of the ceiling before I head to bed. Just thought you all should know.

 

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One Comment

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  1. the only reason I don’t “like” your posts is that i would have to make a wordpress and if i do, it’s one more damn username and password to remember and you know how my memory is. but i like this post. i really really do.

    Like

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