Jenni’s disappointment was palpable as we left the modest mission-style building at the beach. Our meeting with Andrea, the events coordinator at our future wedding site, had left my fiancé feeling unsatisfied. Our planning session was not the robust, overarching conversation about our celebration of love that would take place six months later. Andrea was polite and professional; we asked all our questions and clearly expressed any requirements. And while Andrea may have been nonchalant about the mechanics and details of our wedding, I think what really bothered Jenni was the lack of paperwork.
Forever the eager student she was in elementary school, Jenni is always comforted when there is some sort of form, or say a worksheet, to fill out. Something about penciling in blanks and responding to open-ended prompts provides my wife an odd sense of satisfaction. But on this day, there were no questions with spaces to detail the color of the bridesmaid dresses or describe the lemon three-tiered cake. If I had learned anything in the past year of dating it was when things get written down, it makes Jenni happy. As we walked back to the car, I knew I would need to intervene.
“Honey,” I said in my most reassuring voice, “She does this every day. It’s routine. To her, our wedding is essentially an extra-value meal ordered at the drive thru.”
That was not the right thing to say.
Somehow comparing our special day to a Whopper with fries did not calm the anxiety my bride-to-be was experiencing. Obviously I was trying to make a point about the experience and efficiency of a wedding venue that does this all the time. However, my choice of metaphor did not resonate with the English teacher in the car. I sat back quietly in the passenger seat and wondered what we might be having for lunch, as all of sudden I was craving a burger.
The stop at the Redondo Beach Historic Library was part of a whirlwind wedding prep tour during our Christmas break. In from New Jersey for the week, we needed to knock out as many in-person tasks as we could. Our wedding was in June and this would our only time in the area until school was over. So that week was all-wedding, all the time. We picked a site for the rehearsal dinner and obtained paperwork for our wedding license. We shopped for flowers and videographers. Jenni and I were foot soldiers on the ground carrying out “Operation: Nuptials” and battle fatigue was starting to set in.
How different things were a year ago when I showed up on Jenni’s parent’s doorstep without much warning or explanation. We had been dating for maybe a month, and a cross country New Year’s visit didn’t really match the stage of our band-new relationship. Still, we were intoxicatingly lovestruck and Jenni’s parents, while perhaps puzzled, welcomed me into their home. There was one evening my future father-in-law seemed to be policing any funny business by showing us every single DVD extra of Ice Age, but other than that, they were incredibly gracious.
When I got off the plane for my “surprise” visit, Jenni presented me with a list of things we could do while I was in town. It stuck me as odd that Jenni had made an actual “to-do” list; I had not prepared any written documents. But like Buddy the Elf planning his agenda on an Etch A Sketch, her intentions were good and we had a fantastic time completing it all. We toured the three piers of Manhattan, Hermosa, and Redondo beaches and sampled Jenni’s favorite Mexican food. I made the pilgrimage to the house on 120th Street, so Leona Purchase could size up her granddaughter’s new boyfriend. When the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, Jenni and I shared a kiss under the Main Street fireworks at the “happiest place on earth.” Like any holiday, Disneyland was filled to capacity, but I only remember one other person being there that night.
One year later, we were mired in the business of wedding planning. One of our challenges was that Jenni feels most comfortable after making a decision whereas I’m more comfortable before a decision is made. When Jenni seeks closure, I prefer options. This dichotomy is one of the most interesting dynamics in our relationship, and when I say “interesting” I mean “incredibly frustrating for Jenni.” So as we sat at a gate in LAX, Jenni prompted me to make decisions that in my mind we had months to make.
“When are we going to do wedding invitations?’
“I don’t know.”
“Any thoughts on rehearsal dinner menu?”
“Do we have to pick that now?”
Finally, Jenni reached a breaking point. With tears welling in her eyes, she closed her wedding binder that was sitting across her lap and told me that if I could provide more wedding help, it would be greatly appreciated. Those weren’t her exact words and what followed was a fairly animated discussion on the topic. As business elite passengers and those flying with small children boarded our plane, I hugged Jenni and I told her I would do better.
I will never consider our time being engaged as a one of the better eras in our relationship. It just wasn’t. It was stressful and complicated, which contributed to Jenni and I not being the best versions of ourselves. We were engaged for a little over a year and if I had to do it over, I’d choose to be engaged for twelve hours, if possible. Setting a wedding date was like scheduling our own personal final exam, and that looming date cast a shadow and added undue pressure to our relationship.
Back on our fireplace mantle in New Jersey, the wedding countdown clock purchased at theknot.com kept ticking. We returned to school and I tried to pull my weight with various wedding tasks. I took over honeymoon planning and picked up e-mail communication with vendors. By the time spring break rolled around, RSVPs started trickling in. Every day, Jenni would check the mailbox for envelopes with the familiar bluish-grey print we had selected. She would tally who was coming and I think this process comforted her. After all, what is a wedding response card if not a short worksheet?
Before we knew it, school was over and it was time to head back to LA for the wedding. The day after we landed, we were immediately thrown into the white dress shirt shopping fiasco. While renting tuxedos, the salesman suggested that I get each groomsman a new dress shirt to wear for the wedding. By doing so, no one has to wear a rented shirt and everyone matches. So, armed with combinations of neck and sleeve measurements we headed out to find four matching white dress shirts.
“Where do you want to go, ” Jenni asked as she buckled her seatbelt. This was an unnerving question as I assumed as a native, she’d know where to shop for clothes in the area. However, Jenni was new the market of mens formal wear, so she had no clue where to go. What followed was an all-day, Keystone Cops scavenger hunt for white shirts of specific sizes. I’d select a style I liked and inevitably we’d find three of the four sizes we needed. Jenni would find all four sizes and victoriously fan out the shirts in front of me like a wining poker hand. I would find some small imperfection–collar too wide or cuffs mitered at weird angle–that dismissed the shirts from contention. I’m not proud to admit it, but I was Mr. Pitt in the Seinfeld episode where Elaine couldn’t find the right pair of socks.
From Glendale to Long Beach to Costa Mesa, we combed though every department store we could find. Every time we had to get in the car for a new destination, the collective mood sunk further into resentment and despair. It occurred to me that we should have completed this task on the East Coast where dress shirts are an indigenous species. Whereas in the relaxed culture of Southern California, you can wear your cycling jersey or favorite skateboarding t-shirt to work. Finally, after six malls, two meals, and countless arguments, the magic combination of white shirts in the necessary sizes were acquired.
Dress shirt drama behind us, the wedding was just a few days away and our out of town guests started to arrive. We introduced the New Jersey teacher delegation to In-N-Out Burger. I was a little offended when one of my friends said he didn’t like their french fries. I told him he was just confused because they tasted like potatoes instead of salt. Furthermore, I hoped everyone could admire the proficiency with which they operated their drive-thru. It’s a model of systematic organization that any wedding venue should be happy to live up to.
One surprise for the East Coast guests was the weather as they expected sunny beaches and they got typical June Gloom instead. Jenni’s mom had warned us of this possibility. When we shared the good news of our engagement her response was, “You’re getting married next June!?!? Did you think about the weather!?!?” At the time of that phone call I didn’t know what marine layer was, but from the tone in her voice, I halfway expected it to rain locusts or frogs.
On morning of June 26th the clouds retreated and revealed a perfect day at the beach. There was a little breeze which made for excellent tux weather at 5:00 o’clock in afternoon. With the Pacific Ocean on my right, I waited at the altar and watched our guests fill in the white chairs set up in the grass. At the appropriate musical cue, Jenni emerged on her father’s arm. She looked stunningly beautiful with half her hair swept on top of her head and the rest falling on her exposed shoulders. Our wedding and reception went off without a hitch. Even without a worksheet, Andrea managed all the details beautifully. I guess she’s like one of those proficient waitresses who doesn’t need a pen or pad to remember that you want your poppy seed dressing on the side. Apparently, I relate all managerial science back to food service.
We’re now sixteen plus years into our marriage, and any hiccups Jenni and I experienced getting to the alter are just footnotes to a happy and memorable day. Instead of blocks of hotel rooms and banquet hall seating charts, we now navigate our personality differences in household budgeting and parenting decisions. On our best days, we’re complimentary; other days we patronizingly remind each other, “This is what you chose!” Jenni is still a planner and utilizer of worksheets. I still like to wait as long as possible before making any decision and live by fewer lists than my wife does. I did, recently, put down some memories of our engagement in this blog post because when things get written down, it makes Jenni happy.
Bravo!
Thank you sir!
Too funny! Now you know all about “June gloom” and “May Gray” on the West Coast! The Redondo Beach area is usually even colder than our San Diego County. I definitely was worried but God shined the light on you two that day. Congratulations!
Yep, I’m quite aware of marine layer now! It was amazing that after a week of cold and gloomy the skies opened up that day.