Nearly perfect 10

Ten years ago  today, I was sitting in my mother’s apartment hot and bothered. No one was dressed except for me and the flower girls. My best friend and maid of honor decided to get her nails done mid-morning instead of helping me get dressed. I called her boyfriend and ordered him to tell her to get her hot behind over to my mother’s. It was the most “bridezilla” I’d gotten the whole time. My hairdresser/make-up person didn’t arrive because my soon-to-be husband’s sister had shown up that morning with a whack weave. It took her hours to fix it. I did my own hair and makeup, after a brief meditation exercise, and then I put on my own wedding gown and sat on the couch with the flower girls. Waiting. My mother, grand-aunt, and my mother’s cousin were in their underwear waiting for the hairdresser. They refused to get dressed until she showed up. The photographer showed up on time. Took tons of pictures of me and the bored girls and we looked out wistfully at the limousine. Also waiting.

It occurred to me to grab the girls, dash out to the limo and marry my fiancee with no one else around. Did I really need my family there? I was excited about starting my new life with my new family. My poor fiancee was waiting, wondering what the heck was going on. He didn’t have his cell phone on him so couldn’t call to find out.

Three times, the organist started playing the wedding march, thinking I’d arrived, and then stopped when it turned out to be another guest arriving. Darryl started thinking I’d skipped out on him.

Eventually I got everyone into the car. I drank two bottles of champagne on the ride over. It was hot. I was nervouse. I was also pissed that we were so late. When we got there, I was the first one out of the car. The poor photographer barely had time to set up. I didn’t want any of the dainty bride-getting-out-of-the-car business. No time for that. There’s a great shot of me running up the church steps with my dress hiked up to my waist. I took the stairs two at a time. I think my brother ran down and tried to help me with the bulk of the skirt to make sure it didn’t drag on the ground. But I didn’t care about that. The only reason I was holding it up was so I wouldn’t trip. I could give a damn if it had gotten dirty. Darryl was in the church. He was waiting. And where he was was the only place I wanted to be.

And this morning, even though we both completely forgot it was our anniversary, I still feel the same way about Darryl. Where he is is where I want to be. The last ten years may not have been perfect, but they’ve been wonderful. And next week we’re going to say our “I do’s” all over again.

This time, I won’t be late.

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