Hot damn we’re good looking.
Ok stop reading literally right now if you don’t care about wedding nonsense.
Otherwise, buckle up because I have SO MUCH to tell you!
It is official: On August 16, 2014 I will become Ms. Has Yet To Decide If She’s Changing Her Last Name (more on that later) aka a married lady! Whoop whoop! And we’re planning to pull a full Kardashian and sell rights to our photos to the highest bidder so start making your offers now.
Yay! I’m making weird, dumb jokes, because you know I can’t handle genuine emotional conversations, so I’ll just go ahead and get it out right here at the top: I’m so excited! In 247 days (but who’s counting?), I’m getting hitched! To Brian! My favorite guy. He makes me so happy every single day and I honestly can’t contain myself from grinning ear to ear like a damn fool at even the slightest thought of calling him my husband. Squee!
Ok, we’re done with that.
So. As is customary in all engagements, the moment that Brian popped the question, the world began to pop the other question which was: when? And also the other, other question, which was: where? And thankfully, no one has yet asked the other, other, other question of “why?” so I think pretty much everyone’s on board with our impending union.
We quickly stepped to planning because we knew a long engagement just wasn’t for us. I know it works for some people, but it’s just not our style. Because Brian is a teacher, he has less flexibility in taking time off from work so we pretty immediately zoned in on August 2014 (between his summer teaching gig and the start of the regular school year) or March 2015, during his long Spring break. I was fine with either but ol’ Briguy said he didn’t want to wait all the way until 2015 to lock this down.
(One more quick interlude to mention how much I like this dude.)
And thus, we had our sights pretty well set on August 2014.
And the rest, they say, is history!
Just kidding, the rest, they say, is many weeks of researching,venue visiting, budgeting, list making and extreme emotional roller coastering.
I know it is gauche to talk about money but it’s also gauche to talk about poop and I’ve never let that stop me, so a quick note on el dinero. I’ll go into budgeting in detail another time (who’s excited?!) (no one!) but will say here, just in case anyone didn’t realize, weddings are motherflipping expensive. Like, SO EXPENSIVE. I always knew they were pretty pricey but now that I’m actually looking into planning one in great detail do I realize the incredible cost that goes into pulling off a wedding.
And I do understand (deeply) that none of these costs are necessary, but we’ve decided that it is important to us to celebrate our wedding in the so called “traditional” manner and therefore will incur the costs associated with such an event. Just to give you a sense of what we’re working with here I’ve dubbed the term “Regular Classy” which is to say a mid-sized gathering of friends and family for a non denominational ceremony followed by a meal (with adult beverages) and boogieing down in a festively decorated room. She wears white, he wears a suit, toasts are given, tears are shed, badda bing, badda boom: married.
Despite the many hours I’ve spent reading wedding blogs and attending actual weddings, I honestly didn’t have much of a concept of what it cost to pull this sort of spectacle off and let me just tell you, the results are staggering. Hence the emotional rollercoastering. Every time we find something we like we get super excited (UP!!) and then we see the price tag (DOWN!!) and then we become despondent (WAY DOWN!) and decide we’re calling the whole thing off and getting married in city hall (SO FAR DOWN!!) and then we have a heart-to-heart and decide no! We love each other! We want to throw a bomb-ass wedding, we’ll figure out the money and make it work! And then we’re UP UP UP again, repeat, repeat, repeat.
And we’re not talking like, releasing humanely raised turtledoves off a yacht in the south of France while Bruno Mars croons live in the background, oh no. Just REGULAR CLASSY in the middle of Pennsylvania and still we’re looking at thousands (yes, like 3 zeros) more greenbacks that I ever dreamed of spending.
So gauche as it may be, I can honestly say that money was a very large factor for us when picking where to do this thing. We toyed with the idea of marrying here in our beloved Brooklyn (Go Nets!) but quickly learned that pulling off a wedding in the New York Regional Area is pretty much impossible if you are on our budget range. One venue I reached out to charges $19,000 just to reserve the space. That does not include chairs, tables, decorations, music, food, liquor or doves of ANY kind. The coordinator did say it might include cocktail tables which, for that kind of moolah, better be made out of solid gold or like, human bones.
NINETEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! For a room! I will never get over that fact for as long as I shall live. And that’s probably not even that expensive in the grand scheme of things! What is this world we live in, you guys? What is this world.
(And HERE is where I put the note that if you personally spent that kind of money on your own wedding totally good for you, do your thang. Also: how are you so rich and can I get in on that? Let me make a blanket statement that henceforth, every snarky thing I say about weddings or the WIC is but crazy broke judgmental lady’s opinion, don’t let me stop you from getting your nuptial onnn in however you see fit.)
And thus, we zeroed our sights on my ancestral homeland of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Armed with a date range and the knowledge that we needed to find a venue that fell somewhere within the tricky Venn Diagram of LOW COST and REGULAR CLASSY, we prepared a list of targets, set up appointments and made the arduous journey back to Good Old Pee-Aye.
And that, my friends, is where I will stop my story today. Return tomorrow to get the skinny on exactly what went diggity down on said wedding venue hunt, because this is already basically an epic novel and I’m just vain enough to think that my wedding planning journeys warrant a cliffhanger.