The Charm.

I never had a "real" wedding. I didn't think anyone would show up for me, is the truth. Or thought that the people who would might hurt me.

I find myself, now, in a very strange place. I don't *really* have anybody, anymore. Apart from my sister, of course.  Not having anybody makes it easier but it also makes it harder. Easier not to have to tell my grandmother that I'm about to get married a third time but harder because big events like these sharpen the edges of friendships that have faded over the last few years.

I got married in Hawaii the first time. In a long white dress and veil in a beautiful outdoor chapel on the edge of the sea. Surrounded by people I mostly don't know anymore, I said my vows into the harsh light of a setting sun. I couldn't see a thing. By the end I was so sick to my stomach, I didn't attend my own reception. It might have been something I ate. In the middle of the night we snuck out of the hotel and drove to the emergency room. My then-husband had a severe allergic reaction to something. We passed a pack of wild dogs on a golf course in the dark.

My second wedding was in the living room of our Montana home the day after Christmas. I spent the morning vacuuming on my hands and knees with a Dirt Devil handheld because the housekeeper forgot to tell us she broke the belt in our regular vacuum and there was no time to run to town and find one. Afterward, we rode up the hill with a "Just Married" sign and a bunch of empty soup cans tied to our ATV. My old friend from high school made us a carrot cake with Hershey's Hugs sunk into a thick layer of cream-cheese frosting and we listened to our contractor give a toast about how M. was, as a man, the "new head of [our] Christian household." My sister promptly dropped a champagne glass and broke it. We were all a little gobsmacked by that 'Christian household' thing.

My third wedding is on May 25, 2013 at 11 a.m. at The Old Stone Church in Winchester, Virginia. There will be a simple cake, vegan cupcake and punch reception afterward. All my people are gone, now. I keep hearing that in my head. My parents. My grandparents. My step-brothers. There are once-close friendships I'm less sure of today than I was just two years ago. My still-good friends are few and feel very far away. After twenty years of waiting, whether anyone shows up or not, I'm finally going to marry my best friend. And I can hardly wait. If you're reading this - you're invited.

Comments

[teent]

I can't wait to be there! It's gonna be awesome! Simple and elegant.

[Kristen]

I am very late, reading this. I apologize. My head is in a project that is making days spin by like Dervishes. I never want to make you feel as though I do not care about what you write or where you are. Which I do, actually. I think that, while I do understand what you mean, that you so have people. And as I think about it, I can even remember times when I could count myself as my own people. I think you like yourself in this place now - and if you don't, you need to. Because I like you. And your best friend has chosen you out of the whole world, and had chosen you before. When I came out to Utah, I had no one. I'd left my parents in that old world - Texas, a planet of its own; my childhood family, the same. How can we be alone in a sea of people and circumstance? I smile, thinking of how easy it is. Being alone that way, I mean.

When we are young, seasides and big events are seductive. When we are wise, simple things are simply packed with magic and meaning. If I could afford the ticket, I'd come. I'd come and feel like I stuck out, the little old lady from the screen.

I am still wowwed about "the Christian household" thing. That he should say such a thing, screwing the entire concept of Christianity into a nasty little foil ball that way. And how could that ever have been a surprise if it had been, for even a few moments, true?

May is a good month. You have a good man. You are going to be married - this is an amazing celebration of life. A rough road is only made tenable when you can come to the end of it and find a mansion there full of peace and love.

It is possible to be happy. I believe that.

[Missy]

Ahhh, I wish I had been keeping up, as I would have loved to have been there. Congratulations, Mazel Tov, and all that!

Would love to see you and meet your husband!

Xoxo

[The Trad]

Congratulations -- You're a helluva writer.