Weddings are an opportunity to bask in the glory of love’s communion, so when my boyfriend invited me to his cousin’s wedding, I saw this as a big step in our relationship.
Since I would be meeting his entire family, I felt the need to make an impression. I picked out a gorgeous new dress in shimmering brown satin, paired it with my brown snake skin heels, and gold accessories to match. I would be elegant and chic.
We arrive the evening before and join everyone on the beach for an old fashioned clam bake. The drinks are flowing, as the introductions commence. I plaster on my most dazzling smile as we move from cousin to aunt to brother and so on. Each time my boyfriend leaves, I feel a spark of panic, only to have it subside when some one steps in to make conversation.
The day of the wedding, I am already in a slightly emotional state.
We shower and dress, and when I present the finished product to my boyfriend he smiles, kisses my cheek, and says I look lovely. As kind a response as this may seem, I am not thrilled with it. I want an over the top “You look gorgeous!” and his less than jubilant reaction has squashed my confidence. In my brown dress, and with my lowered self esteem, I make my way fortuitously to the bar. The champagne is flowing, which honestly is one of the best reasons to go to a wedding. One glass down and I feel as bubbly as the brut.
Weddings are rather awkward when you’re the plus one, since you don’t know anyone and you have to pretend that this is okay. My boyfriend leaves to go and grab the camera, and I cling to my champagne glass as if it is a life raft on the Titanic.
The sun is shining, but the cold has arrived and my bare arms and legs are prickled with goose bumps. The wind whips my hair out of its pristine up do, and with my lack of confidence, I am not feeling like myself. The music begins and everyone fixes their gaze on the door. The bride is dressed in an old fashioned beaded white gown, and her make up is done to classic wedding perfection.
My boyfriend wraps his arms around me, kisses my check and says he is going to take pictures. As he moves away from me, my heart sinks. This is the moment that I want to share with him. As cheesy as it may sound, I want that feeling of connection that you can only get when two people relate to a situation together. In the fantasy of my mind, he wraps his arms around me, kisses me lovingly, and gives me that look that says I can’t wait to marry you. In reality though, I am making the slow march towards catching the crazy.
Like most of the women here I become bleary eyed and emotional, a state I can blame on both my big heart and the ever flowing champagne. I usually let my emotions flow, knowing that they are tools to help me process life, but this time I hold back the tears. This is not for stoicism or pride, but rather for vanity. I don’t want my make up to run, so I hold my face in a stony smile, as the crazy thoughts begin to rise. Two voices begin arguing in my head:
Why didn’t he say I looked amazing?
Maybe he doesn’t like the dress.
I really wish he would just come back and be close to me.
He’s only taking pictures, calm down!
But I want him here now.
Well then you shouldn’t have bought him a camera for his birthday!
Don’t be absurd.
This internal dialogue spirals me deeper into crazy, as we make our way to the buffet table. Finding little comfort in food, I reach once more for my best buddy bubbly in hopes of drowning out the raucous debate in my mind. Sensing that I need some alone time, I tell my boyfriend I will be back and make my way to the garden. Sitting quietly with my thoughts, I close my eyes and attempt to empower myself with positive feelings. Suddenly a rush of noise and turmoil descends from all sides.
“Pictures…Pictures every one. Into the garden please!” screams a shrill voice.
I open my eyes to see my boyfriend standing in front of me holding his camera.
“Hey love! Will you take some pictures for me?”
“Sure!” I say with a half smile.
The whole family gathers together and the snapping commences. Several other members of the family ask me to take pictures with their camera and I am happy to oblige. It is only when his brother asks me to get in the picture that the crazy thoughts return. “No that’s okay!” I answer. I am on the verge of losing it, so I excuse myself and adjourn to our room. I close the door and press up against it in tears.
Why didn’t he ask me himself to be in the picture?
Maybe he doesn’t consider you family.
But I love him, and I think I want him to be my family.
Oh my god! You’re seriously in love!
Ugh! I feel so vulnerable.
Listen missy. It’s about time you admitted just how much you love this guy.
I do. I love him so much and… I want him to be my husband.
Whoa! Now you’re scaring both of us.
“I’m in love! Okay.” I say to no one.
As this realization dawns, a big, goofy smile stretches across my face. He invited me to this wedding to introduce me to his whole family, and that was his first step toward making a commitment. Now the ball is in my hands, and I am catching the crazy because it is my comfort zone. I use it shield myself when I am faced with change. Now is the time to change my pattern and face what has always scared me. “You are a child of love. I want you to go back down there and face your fear of commitment.”
I find my boyfriend, and as he smiles my insides light up with the most divine feeling. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him gently on the lips. “Thank you for sharing this day with me. You mean the world to me.” He squeezes me tighter and says I love you. This was a better connection than I had ever imagined, and all I had to do was stop catching the crazy and start facing the love.
This blog post was written by Rebecca.
/
