To me, the DJ is the most important part of the wedding. It is also the scariest. Steph and I don’t have the time or money to go to Charlotte (the closest metropolis to Salisbury) for the weekend to meet with potential vendors. We have to make these decisions blindly. For some reason finding a caterer was easy. Honestly I think I may have been a little haste in my decision making but I found an affordable option and tacos represent Steph and I well (for all of the reasons you may be thinking) so I just went with it. Plus I read somewhere that they’re the number one food truck in the area. I of all people should know not to trust that though. A couple years ago I was in search of a new dentist so I sought out the City Paper winner for Best Dentist. I have had the same dentist and hygienist for most of my life and have never had any real fears or concerns with teeth cleaning. In fact, when I had my wisdom teeth removed, I was wide awake. (I needed an IV of Valium to slow my heart rate but that’s neither here nor there). I was a tad nervous for someone new but the office was very nice and the ceilings had clouds painted on so I was feeling at ease. Until my hygienist told me she didn’t feel comfortable cleaning teeth unless her patients are getting a steady supply of nitrous oxide aka laughing gas. I’ve mentioned I’m an anxious person, right? I don’t like when masks like that are put on my face. The first time I ever had surgery they put me under via mask and as I was going down I thought the anesthesiologist was trying to suffocate me so I swung my tiny ineffectual 5th grade fists in his direction. He gently pushed me down and 2 hours later I woke up in hysterics. Obviously this all went through my head as this woman hovered above me insisting I needed it, that it would help me “relax.” Fuck you bitch. After that cleaning I had to sit in my car for an hour and a half before driving to work and you know what? I don’t even remember driving to work. I’ve always had a healthy fear of drugs. I think I can thank Corpus Christi DARE week and my brother for that. Of course I hit my rebellious years and discovered I could handle some light experimentation. And then somewhere in college my anxiety hit full force and now I am terrified of everything again. The girl who once played ten rounds of flip cup with Firefly Vodka is now even slightly afraid of having too much to drink. (By the way, I don’t recommend doing that. Ever.) Maybe that’s what growing up is. Hmm. I’ll have to take some time and a few glasses of wine to reflect on that. Now, where the heck was I because that was the longest tangent of my life… Oh yes! Booking a DJ. I mentioned previously my frustration with trying to find someone so I won’t get into that again. But I should mention for a second that the part of our wedding I find to be most important (second only to our love and happiness and all that other stuff), is the part I put off most. I started reading reviews and there were so many horror stories and situations that I had never even thought about it. Committing to this felt too difficult. And when I finally got back into the searching process (I emailed at least 20 DJs) so many of potential favorites were booked for our date which left me feeling incredibly discouraged. But I kept at it. I stalked these websites like it was my job. And created the most anal spreadsheet. It’s scary to put all of your trust in some email correspondence and reviews from strangers. But that’s what I did. And I booked us a DJ. Literally an hour ago. So the next big to-do is reserving our event rentals (tables, chairs, and that notorious tent) and I’m leaving that to Steph because I am checking out.
There’s no fluid segue here so I’m just going to say Beyonce and that will do it for me. We went to the concert and we sat in the nosebleeds and it was magical as hell. Honestly, I would like to compare the energy in the stadium to what I imagine a Spice Girls concert would have been like — so much girl power. It was beautiful and empowering and so fucking badass. I know there’s a lot of hype around Beyonce right now and since Lemonade, she’s all anyone is talking about. But I am in awe of her despite any media attention that may be swirling around her. I definitely consider myself an avid concert goer and I know Stephanie agrees. I don’t attend nearly as many as I’d like because my wallet really doesn’t allow it. Steph is the opposite however. She doesn’t care much for concerts unless Brandi Carlile is the one performing (look her up if you don’t know her) and she certainly doesn’t understand standing throughout the experience. I could be incorrect in saying this, she’ll have to let me know, but I think Bey gave her a whole new appreciation for the concert experience. She was floored by the whole thing and it was so fun to watch. She was on her feet the entire time and dancing and singing her little heart out. We agreed that for the next tour, we’re getting floor seats. Side note: I have to take a moment to mention that she ended the show by dancing in a literal pool of water and I cried because the imagery was so incredibly powerful and she and her dancers kicked ass.
Moving on to Mother’s Day. We traveled to Pawley’s Island for the weekend, a beach slightly south of Myrtle where Steph’s family has a condo. We had a nice time and Steph is now a brown coconut and I’m horribly jealous. So much so I told her she cannot go to the beach anymore until I get as much color as she has. I think this is exceptionally fair. During the car ride home she was feeling a tad ill which gave me time to muse over a few things from the previous two days, specifically a few moments where I was feeling catty and bitchy and all over annoyed by everyone and everything. I think I’m pretty good about checking in with myself and taking time to figure out where my inner negativity and hostility stems from. I don’t always fix it very well but identifying it is half the battle, amirite? My therapist may disagree with this. Anyways, on the long stretch of nothing that is Highway 17, I came to the realization that I am jealous of Steph and, without realizing it, that jealousy affects me in a multitude of ways. Because of the proximity of her family, we see them often. Obviously the topic of our nuptials comes up regularly. Because unlike my family, hers is incredibly supportive and helpful. You would think discussing the details of our big day would excite me, but I often find myself in a terrible mood at the end of the conversations and discussions. I know for a fact I lash out at Steph, I become distant and agitated and she is left in the dark about my sudden shift in emotion. She is, of course, a saint. And she puts up with all of my tantrums, god only knows why. The other day though, I was finally able to express to her (although I’m still not sure she fully understood) that there is a constant internal struggle going on where half of me is delighted that we have this huge and wonderful support system and the other half is irate that I don’t have my own people in my corner that are constantly checking in, offering assistance and fawning over me. But this, of course, is not true. I do have these people, I just have to remind myself when I start spiraling into my deep dark pit of despair (many of my friends labeled me as “emo” in my younger days, despite my “princess pink” bedroom) that I have an awesome group of friends that are behind me 100%. Not only that, but her family is about to become MY family. This is so exciting. Not to mention incredibly humbling that this group of beautiful people welcome me in so wholly. It’s easy to forget on the bad days, and Mother’s Day is probably one of those difficult times. To my new people, I am ever so grateful to have you in my life. And to my angel of a fiancée, this is a formal apology for my bratty tendencies. They’re also probably never going away entirely so I would take these next few months to make sure you really want that for the next 75 years (I say 75 because I am absolutely living to be a centenarian which is basically the human form of a unicorn. It is also, by the way, different from a centurion–where would I be without google). I work on bettering myself every chance I get and I hope the people around me continue to hold me accountable for my shit.
Don’t be fickle, my sweet dill pickle
(this one might be cheating. I’m not sure it’s actually a sign off)
P.s. if you know a wedding vendor (or you yourself happen to be one), please tell them to make their website more LGBT friendly and stop assuming I have a groom. It’s 2016. The gays are alive and well.
what I’m listening to now