So far, the only advice we’ve received was from the fiance’s boss on speaker phone (when he didn’t know I was listening), “don’t do it!!!” Oops, he was busted in his little joke. Well that’s not the answer at all, T!
What about the old adage, “If you want to be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife?” Nah. That won’t do either.
Well thank goodness for Katie over at Marriage Confessions. She has saved the day!
Well, look where I have landed. Right here in the Kingdom of Quirky, at the invitation of the Queen, of course. And I’m so happy to be here. When the Queen asked me to guest blog for her while she is off studying the fine art of blogging (with the help of a few margaritas, I’m sure…), I jumped at the chance. Especially because our Queen here has gone and gotten herself engaged and engagements have been known to lead to the occasional marriage. And, boy howdy, do I have a lot to say about marriages.
My entire marriage can be summed up in the story of our wedding registry. I was almost more excited about our wedding registry than I was about the actual wedding. Visions of Cuisinarts danced in my head. There would be Tupperware and Corningware. There would be gingham and paisley. There would be bamboo cutting boards and knives that I wasn’t qualified to use. Some little girls dream of their wedding dress, but a true shopper at heart dreams of her wedding registry.
The day we decided to go to Macy’s and register, I picked out my prettiest sundress. I wore my most comfortable sandals. I packed an extra ponytail holder in case things got crazy and I needed to keep my hair out of my face in all the excitement. And I dragged Chris into the department store. The clerk at the bridal registry department created our account and then handed the scanner gun to Chris.
She might as well have waived a checkered flag and yelled, “Lady – start your engine!” I was off.
I jerked the scanner gun out of Chris’ hands and reached for a set of bright yellow checkered dish towels. The glory was mine.
“Oh,” said Chris, stopping me in my tracks. “You like yellow?”
Wait. What was happening? Why was he speaking? Didn’t he know that his presence here was completely ornamental?
“Uh, yeah,” I said defiantly. And then I realized other people might overhead us, so I added, “Don’t you, sweetie?”
“I sort of like black and silver.”
Wait. What the hell was happening here? What were these…these…opinions that were coming out of Chris’ mouth?
And the rest of my day didn’t get much better. Suddenly, Chris has thoughts and ideas and preferences. And they were different from mine. And I didn’t like it one bit. The more he picked out, the further away my dreams of gingham and farmhouse style fell. I couldn’t even tell you what we registered for that day because I was in a complete haze of blind rage. Where the crap would my toile kitchen curtains go now that we had chrome appliances? Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.
That night after Chris had gone to bed, I snuck out to the computer and logged in to our registry online. I spent the next three hours deleting everything Chris had picked out and re-registering for all the things I wanted. Once I was finished, I went back to bed.
And the guilt set in.
How was I going to be married when I couldn’t even share a wedding registry? What kind of wife would I be if I demanded things were always done my way? What kind of marriage would that make?
So, once again, I got out of bed and padded down the hallway to the computer. I logged back into our registry and I took off all of my changes. I added back the chrome toaster and the industrial Black & Decker blender. I even added back the Homer Simpson beer mugs (though in hindsight, I should have left those off…). The next morning when we woke up, everything was back in its place. Yellow plaid seat cushions next to black metallic mixers.
When I look around our house today – five years later – I still see the hodgepodge that is our two styles blending. A modern piece of abstract art hangs over a French country rug with pink tea roses. It may look odd to some people, but that’s just the way it is. The perfect blending of two people. We may not match. We may see the world very differently. But somehow, it just sort of fits.
So, my advice to you, Dear Queenie, as you start this crazy journey of marriage is this: Don’t bring your fiancé with you when you register. But if you MUST, then just grab his hand and get ready to embrace the chrome. Life’s better with a little variety anyways
Just be sure you grab the scanner gun first…