As some of you may know, my fiance proposed to me a few months ago at the top of Mulholland Drive with a mariachi band (throw in a few backwards-talking midgets, and we would be in a David Lynch movie!) I’m very excited about the idea of marriage with a person so wonderful that he works a 16-hour day and still stops at the grocery store to bring me Fresca. But I’m not excited about the wedding. And I don’t mean in a cute, ‘oh I hope it doesn’t rain’ kind of way–I mean in an ‘I won’t make it down the aisle unless I’m on so much Xanax that I’m drooling’ fashion. I hate weddings. Maybe it’s because my first experience as a part of a wedding party involved standing alongside the 18-year-old bride in a ceremony that I KNEW would be a disaster, and having my long hair set on fire by a candle afterwards. The marriage went down in flames soon after my hair.
My second wedding experience happened in London, where I walked down the aisle for visa reasons (which I wrote about in my book Sleeping Around). I got through the day on a mix of adrenaline and champagne. After all, I told myself, it was just a performance.
Maybe it’s because we are paying for everything ourselves, but when I watch Say Yes To The Dress I have felt the urge to jump through the screen and bitch-slap the Bridezillas into reality as they scream at everyone and try to squeeze themselves into outfits five sizes too small that cost more than my car. I totally understand wanting to feel happy on her ‘special day’. But marriage is supposed to be a grown-up transition. Why all the drama? Am I weird to want to bank the money, grab a bottle of tequila and escape with my man?
But marriage is all about compromise, and he wants a wedding. And this time, it’s the real deal. I’m putting myself out there to read my vows in front of hundreds of people. For someone used to ending everything with a joke, this will probably feel a bit like emotional waterboarding. On the plus side, the white dress (yes I’m wearing white!) is beautiful. We’ll be starting our ‘special day’ out with an open bar. And my something blue? Yeah, it’s totally a flask.