To properly begin this category, “Operation: Groomsday,” which will chronicle the machinations of a man during the wedding planning phase, a bit of background information is needed. Consider this a prologue to the actual narrative, which is a no-no for sure. But I think its necessary in this case.
We talked about marriage for at least a year, perhaps longer, yet the actual wedding, the pomp & circumstance of it, just now begins to take shape. Of chief concern is the budget. Now, as an outsider, I’ve never liked weddings—it’s an excuse, in my opinion, to spend money you ain’t got, to feed (some) people you don’t like, to profess a love that’s probably truer in personal, even silent times than any pageant slapped together at your local country club or cathedral. But that’s just me. You learn quickly to compromise or acquiesce altogether, because one thing the wedding does create is the need to forego self-centered notions. It ain’t just you, so it goes, and what was banal to you prior to the engagement is paramount in its importance to the other. The wedding quickly tests your diplomatic skills; its not the kiss at the end of the altar, but the number of fist fights and arguments it took to get there. This, if you’ll remember, is all to say I don’t want to go broke doing this. Thankfully, neither does she.
Since I started writing—or imagining—this over the weekend, I’ve considered how much or little of “our story” I should share: my final determination is to communicate the least amount of info as possible. For one, it’s private. And in giving the reader, you, some credit, I’ll allow you to assume (I hope) that our reasons for getting married are grounded in the best possible place. I’m aware of the divorce rate, my personal contribution notwithstanding, and with that, the growing pessimism toward the institution (which makes anti-gay marriage arguments that much more dubious, but now is not the time). That said, I love her more than words can express; cheesy, yes, but earnest nonetheless. Why I proposed should be self-evident but, to not give you, the reader, too much credit (mind-reading is still years away, I hear), I will say this much.
There are grown people, men and women, with genuine innocence in their hearts. I, of course, am not one of them, but she is and I saw as much when I met her. There were no thoughts of marriage at the time—only defense. I’m trying not to be cheesier about this, so I’ll get to the point and fade to black. Over time, I didn’t want to possess her innocence like a trinket to be toyed and broken, nor did I want to be the harbinger of its end. I wanted to defend it, to take the shots, to mar an already hedonistic, pessimistic disposition, not because the innocence made her weak, but because it made her rare. It’s not a duty. I don’t even think of it as a serendipitous calling. But it was a choice, reaffirmed by our days and nights together. Glean what you want from this.
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