I got two Christmas cards in the mail yesterday, one from my aunt and uncle and one my grandparents. I opened them before I had even taken off my coat because getting real in-the-mail mail these days is exciting. (that’s not a hint, I’m just as guilty of sending 100 times more emails than snail mail.) The card from my grandparents started out innocently enough with my grandmother’s note, followed by my grandfather’s note, which took a sudden turn when he wrote this sentence, “maybe in the new year you will be planning a wedding.” That was followed by this sentence, which escaped loudly from my mouth, “What the fuck? That is not OK! Why?!”
It seems as if the whole world (besides my close friends, and for that I thank you) is planning my wedding. Oh, and the two most important people in said imaginary festivities, and the w-word has not even crossed their lips. Not once. I know it’s in fashion these days to get engaged after a year or less of being in a relationship, but I’m not a fan of being fashionable. I’m more a fan of doing things at my own speed and knowing that if they’re meant to happen, they will.
I’ve never been the wedding obsessed sort of girl. I know people who have had their weddings planned out since they were little girls, dress, colors, place, table settings, the whole deal. Oh I played my fair share of “wedding” and my friends and I even forced my brother to participate in a pink tutu, even though he was the obvious and logical choice for the groom. My cousins had the most beautiful wedding dress that had been their grandmother’s in their dress up box. It had long sleeves and a long row of tiny buttons up the back. I loved that dress.
The second I realized Adam was awesome though, I did not start to plan our future. I have no timeline, except for the one which involves moving back to North Carolina. I’ve thought about the future, but only in an abstract sort of maybe someday sort of way. Honestly the thought of being the center of attention in a white dress, which I would obviously get dirty immediately, makes me feel like puking. Walking down the aisle with my dad is hysterical. Being sentimental in front of lots of people is unthinkable. And the planning? Holy yikes. The only fun part in my mind is the party. Ask me to elope and come home and have a “HAHA we got married and you didn’t know” party and I’ll be yours forever.
So don’t mention the W-word around me unless I bring it up because I’m sick of people making assumptions about a relationship that they are not in. Plus, you’ll probably give me a heart attack:)