The essay that follows is historical, that is to say I wrote it not many weeks or months after getting married. It is satire to say the least.

When I was glowing from having captured the heart of my now-wife, I had no idea what I was getting into. I asked her to be married to me till we were dead and she shrieked her excited response. I was happy, she was happy, the future was a little brighter, heck it was a lot brighter, it glowed like the sun and sparkled like the ring I bought her and struggled to get on her finger. It was one of those nice backdrops they put down on the stage in the movies – you know, the fake ones – there was a cement wall behind it.

I thought we’d be so far advanced in our planning that nothing would go wrong. I forgot that three VERY strong willed women would be merging together to plan the worlds best looking, cheap-o wedding. We’d have it all…for less. And for the glory set before him he endured the crossed lines, changed minds and bickering. All the while smiling and holding his petite bride back from adding to the heavily girded opinions of the checkbook-wielding warrior-queens. Zina never met my mother’s budget.

Then there was the innocent bystanders who were of course invited to the wedding, they invited themselves. They had to come because even though I saw them once a year, or less, and we were such good friends, they had to come (What could be more natural). They feigned concern, and asked, "Are you nervous?" No, but I was really getting tired of that question. There is only one question more annoying and that is the one when they asked for the invitation that I hadn’t sent them.

Speaking of invitations, they were beautiful and were perfect and they were expensive. They had inside them an envelope that requested that they respond… I say that they had them only because I saw them. People didn’t use them mind you. Maybe it was because the little stamp on the back was not a good enough reason to use them, my guess is that there was a burden too heavy to bare in putting their yes or no check an the right line and then [gasp] [at this point in time I would add dramatic music but since this is not a dynamic Microsoft (c) multimedia presentation, You can just start humming. Preferably the Phantom of the Opera theme.][Sorry for the interruption, I was just saying that checking the line was hard and then…] actually applying your tongue to the envelope. I understand that this may be hazardous to your health and you may receive a paper cut and then your tongue swell up in your mouth and you may die from it, but the chances are way too slim for that.

Once we actually got to the ‘Big Day’ it was alright. There is an annoying tradition that goes:’the said bride may not see the said groom and vise-versa.’ Chalk one up for the old that’s-the-way-we-have-always-done-it folks (While you’re at it why don’t you chalk one up for the we-use-all-the-hyphens-we-can folks). This made my day twice as long as it should have been. And to make matters worse we had an evening wedding. This is not all bad except that it has no good side to it. First you have to wait all day long to get it over with. Second, afterwards you get to be with a bunch of people, who all have never seen or heard a better wedding ceremony in their lives, for what seems like the rest of your life. Third you get to be up really late, you’re tired from not sleeping the night before, and now you have to put on the "I’m alert awake and ready to be married" look so your spouse thinks that you’re ready to "do married things." Granted, this can be exciting, but I’d say that if it wasn’t the next morning before you’re alone you’d have a better chance to be relaxed and comfortable together.

So before you get married, please read the instructions [the Bible] and have a good wedding day, you’re only supposed to get one.