Growing up, I never fantasized about getting married. Honestly, I thought if I ever did tie the knot, it would be after a debaucherous weekend in Vegas. I know some people start thinking about it early and often, and that’s okay. It just wasn’t me.
When The Roommate and I got engaged, I was really happy about this new chapter in my life. However, as the wedding planning began my excitement quickly diminished. All those insane details and so many decisions! And don’t even get me started on the demands and expectations of our families, whose members were spread across the country.
When my father insisted the flower girls sprinkle rose petals ahead of his solo Soul Train Line down the aisle (in hindsight I think he was totally joking), something snapped. I said, “Eff this” and suggested that we get married at the courthouse instead.
Not a planned event with the in-town relatives, cake, white dress and whatnot. I meant get up that Saturday morning, wear regular gear and say “I do” before the court-appointed person and whatever random strangers happen to be present. Miraculously, The Roommate agreed.
Afterward, we mailed handmade cards (designed to look like ransom notes) informing everyone we knew of what we’d done and to not bother us for the next three days.
And I’ve never regretted it.