The Honeymoon

The third most anticipated time of one's life...The Honeymoon...takes a back backseat only to the wedding day...and attending a Yanni concert live. In Greece. Where you are sitting close enough to smell the shampoo he uses on his hair (you know it has to be that good).
(Or maybe they don't shower that often in Greece...if that's the case...proceed with caution).


The Honeymoon is the driving force behind enduring the Wedding Day....and for some of us a recovery process  due to the Wedding Night (there are so many sights to see...and you must see them all...in one day...everyday...which is why you are so tired....and require so much sleep).


For a very small percentage of us...The Honeymoon is spent basking in the loveliness of the marriage you entered, being fully knowledgeable of and compatible with the person you chose to spend forever after with...also you are probably one that drinks often.


However, for the majority of the rest of us it is the: "post-wedding-pre-real-life-welcome-to-reality-wake-up-call" period (say that five times fast). It can be brutal, which may be why I am skeptical of the innocence of those honeymooning whose spouses end up "falling off" the cruise line balcony, or whose air supply tanks mysteriously "shut-off"--while scuba diving. We've been there. We know what it's like, and trust me, at one point or another we have had those same thoughts running through our heads...jail just scares us more than you (call it an aversion to pant-pocket holding). The Honeymoon is the fancier version of the rest of your life.


There are many ways to go about The Honeymoon. Traditionally, it is planned by the husband (no this is not a liberalist blog...I'm too tired...and it's too complicated to address every sort of marriage situation...another day...another person...). The wife plans The Wedding, the husband plans The Honeymoon. Even-steven. If you as the wife hate The Honeymoon...then guess what....he as the husband can hate The Wedding. Even-steven. Everyone comes out a hater. This is the traditional way, because traditionally, it has worked.


On rare occasions for the innovative thinkers...one of the parties (husband or wife) has the privilege of planning both. I would assume that in this situation it is the wife that ends up planning both...however this is an equal opportunity land...so husbands are free to plan it all too...it is not recommended...and a change in spousal preference down the road may not be surprising if this is the case...but just imagine...the second wedding will be so much prettier than the first.


Then there's the situation I found myself in...the wedding was planned and executed...by yours truly...with the exception of the photographer...no wait...me. So yes...wedding planning equals me. Honeymoon planning equals him. Supposedly. Until he comes and asks for an opinion on places. Queue conversation that followed:
Me: "Surprise me!"
Plan-Lacker: "Surprise as in...somewhere warm....or somewhere cold?"
Me: "Well...I don't really care...sight-seeing would be fun...tropical could be fun...stuck in a room with you could be fun..." (*all conversation was prior to the wedding night...had more information been given...that answer most likely would have changed)
PL: "So...warm?"
Me: "Sure"
PL: "And by sight-seeing you mean...."
Me: "Is there a comma in there? And did you just speak gangsta to me? 'And by sight-seeing, you mean.'"
PL: "No, I just want to get more of a feeling of how you want to spend it."
Me: "I would just love for it to be you and me...mostly alone...somewhere quiet...chill...where we can just hang out and talk and be together." (*)
PL: "Got it."
And by "got it"...he meant....Disneyland.


Yes...we did...the happiest place on earth. Second to the Yanni concert. Our Honeymoon was spent with one Mickey Mouse...and one Goofy...I honestly still don't know what kind of animal he is. Dog? Cow? Confused.


Regardless of the location of The Honeymoon...two common types of people seem to emerge:
*The Go-Doer Spouse: This is the one who pushes the other to go and see the sights, absorb the experience, and live every day to the fullest...because for most it's a once in a lifetime opportunity...so carpe diem.This not only applies to the actual out-and-aboutness of the sight-seeing...but bouts in the bedroom as well. Sleep is of little importance to these people.
*The Vertically Challenged Spouse (not in the way you think...sicko): This is the one who finds it hard to maintain any sort of position but horizontal...meaning...laying down. It is a rare thing to see them standing and walking and moving, as that requires effort, and The Honeymoon is supposed to be effortless. Again...this not only applies to the effortlessness of The Honeymoon day activities...but the nighttime ones too. No effort=Please yes.


What is ironic in all of this is that at some point in the dating period...glimpses of these were shown...and were attractive...and endearing...and we loved it. Enter The Honeymoon. Now we hate it.

The Wedding Night

I feel this post can best be summed up in two minutes. 
As can The Wedding Night.
Thank you I'll be here all week.


Seriously though:
~Wife retreats to bathroom to "slip into something more comfortable" (lie number one of the marriage...it is not comfortable).
~Husband sits on bed...attentively waiting for wife to return.
~Wife realizes it was much easier to put on that comfortable clothing with the help of at least     one other person...but is determined to make an impression.
~Husband becomes a little bored...but remembers what is soon coming...starts making preparations himself.
~Wife gets top half adjusted and buttoned/snapped/tied/laced...remembers there's a bottom half too.
~Husband spots remote...lies nude and watches sports...ultimate heaven.
~Wife exits bathroom...wearing something not even the least bit comfortable...that required sweat, muscle, maybe a tiny bit of blood, and about thirty-minutes. Sees husband in all his glory watching television...wonders if she can slip out before he notices.
~Husband sees wife...mental note to turn off television...bigger mental note to check scores later...is at wife's side in two seconds...with comfortable clothing removed in less than one.


So it's more like thirty minutes...plus two...

First Comes Love...Then Comes Marriage..Then Comes….

Reality.

What we know to be true...A.K.A. "our truth as we know it," (thank you Oprah).

The funny thing about reality is its ability to always exist, but not recognized (L.O.L). Meaning, fact is fact- and it always exists- but whether we choose to see it or not is up to us. Kind of like facial hair on women…midgets…or people with those eyes where one is staring you straight in the face while the other looks like a car doing doughnuts in an icy parking lot.

The interesting thing about reality is when one chooses to notice it (hmmm). For example, in regards to dating and marriage, the person you marry is the same one you dated…granted there is no serious brain injury or body altering surgeries of any kind. This is the same person you fell in love with and couldn’t imagine life without. The same person you wanted to bring little half-lings of them into the world with. Then marriage hits…and now comes the reality we’ve all been ignoring. I happened to hit my reality about twenty-four hours before the nuptials occurred. In essence, I had twenty-four hours to make the biggest decision of my life, for the second time.

Throughout the course of planning a wedding in record time (no baby involvement…at least that my parents know about)- in a state that I was not residing in- time and efficiency were beyond necessary. That being said…idiot didn’t get that. And by idiot I mean my then fiancé. The day before the wedding, we were supposed to meet with the photographer (I needed to know that she knew how to take pictures)...pick up the suits (heaven knows I didn’t want to see any of the groomsmen wearing their Birthday ones…well…except…okay no)…prepare the rehearsal dinner (okay...more of a dinner and not a rehearsal)….and deal with Mother 2.0 (think Mother Theresa...meets Richard Simmons). So...I asked idiot to meet with the photographer…I asked my dad to pick up the suits…put multiple family members in charge of the dinner…and slipped a valium into my mom’s drink. And possibly mine too.

Enter: Time to meet with the photographer.

Idiot didn’t know his way around the city…it was his first time there….he can’t be blamed for everything….even if Mapquest and Google were fully functioning...I also think my dad had actually hand drawn a map for him as well….anyhow. Not his fault he couldn’t find his way around the very small city we were in. So, he asked my brother to go with him. Now here’s where the crucial decision needed to be made...(men…boys…man-boys….and transvestites…don’t be dumb). Do you:

1)      get to where you need to get…asap and without crap… (ßyes) (rhyming answers are always the yes answers)

or…

2)     get lost…with the other idiot…who has lived in the city his whole life…and then call laughing…because the idiot joke you were laughing at while you were getting lost was so funny that you literally could not stop laughing to call to say you are not going to be able to do the one thing you were asked to do…(besides wipe yourself….so I guess it was two things you were asked to do). (ßReally idiot…figure it out).

Reality.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses and butterflies.

Why?

Because I recognized. And I still said yes.

Idiot.

"I-Do" Defined

The purpose of this blog is monumental.
Take a minute. Let it set in. That's right. Monumental.
After hearing the same problematic stories being told over thousands of years, by millions of women and men...I found a solution. A rule-book if you will. You will.

These problematic stories are the same ones our parents told us, because their parents told them, and their parents beat it into them. The same stories that are discussed between friends and enemies alike. Common ground is common ground, and I'm certain that even the least liked person in my life (you know who you are)and I could spend a few hours comparing these stories (we won’t on account that you are least liked).

What are these problematic stories you may ask (you did when you read the first five words of that sentence)? They pertain to a certain institution I've taken the liberty of defining (you're welcome):

Marriage: the state (life sentence) of being united (stuck) to a person (breathing human) of the opposite (everything) sex, as husband (bread-winner, grass-mower, couch-sitter) or wife (child-raiser, house-cleaner, nagger) in a consensual (pun...con-sensual) and contractual (via pre-nups) relationship (parasitic/host) recognized by law (domestic disturbances).

Riiiigggghhht. See---you know what I'm talking about. And you know you know. And that's what I'm talking about. Are we on the same page now? We will be shortly. Same page of what book you may ask?(Again...you just did....trickery).  It's a little book I like to call "The Unwritten Rules of Saying I Do," also known as "What Every Person Should Know Before Life-Sentencing Themselves to Another Human They Think They Know,  But Trust Me You Don't, So Let Me Help You See The Light (A.KA. Who You Do Not Know)...And Everything That Comes With It. And Everyone that Comes With It. And Sunshine and Butterflies." (It Can't All Be Depressing).

Allow me to introduce you to "The Unwritten Rules of Saying I-Do."