After painstaking review of my schedule over the next year, I chose my fast approaching wedding date for the simple fact that it wasn’t near any birthdays, holidays or notorious months of bad weather. It was either this fall or next summer and given the speed at which my sweetheart and I have fused into a single entity, it didn’t make much sense to prolong the legal record of our happiness. The availability of a breathtaking reception venue in the canyons of Southern California, and my childhood minister (willing and able to travel 3,000 miles to marry me) sealed my choice. September 29th, 2007. Something about that date felt auspicious.
Months following the booking did I realize the karma behind my anniversary. On the evening of my wedding it will have been exactly one year to the day that I spent 12 charmed “es wird sein” hours falling in love with the man I’m marrying. September 29th of last year I was in Las Vegas for a business trip. I had decided to spend an extra night in Sin City to be entertained, as was tradition between us, by an old friend. He met me at the Venetian casino while I whittled away a few fifties drinking Grey Goose at a black jack table and then whisked me through lesser known local watering holes and tapas bars off the strip. His smile made me weak. A few hours before my morning flight, he slipped his arm under the curve of my neck, curled up not-so-platonically against my lower back, and massaged my shoulders with his fingertips until I fell asleep. We didn’t kiss that night, but we had before and I knew it was only a matter of days before we would again; he had been offered a job in DC. That chemical connection we’d always downplayed to our friends was no longer constrained by coastal distance or significant others. This was it…
So not only will our wedding date memorialize our vows, it will also be a celebration of the exact hour of our unity as soul mates, one year earlier. I liken the rarity of that coincidence to the purity of our affection, and I look forward to embodying the proof that marital odds can be beaten.
Months following the booking did I realize the karma behind my anniversary. On the evening of my wedding it will have been exactly one year to the day that I spent 12 charmed “es wird sein” hours falling in love with the man I’m marrying. September 29th of last year I was in Las Vegas for a business trip. I had decided to spend an extra night in Sin City to be entertained, as was tradition between us, by an old friend. He met me at the Venetian casino while I whittled away a few fifties drinking Grey Goose at a black jack table and then whisked me through lesser known local watering holes and tapas bars off the strip. His smile made me weak. A few hours before my morning flight, he slipped his arm under the curve of my neck, curled up not-so-platonically against my lower back, and massaged my shoulders with his fingertips until I fell asleep. We didn’t kiss that night, but we had before and I knew it was only a matter of days before we would again; he had been offered a job in DC. That chemical connection we’d always downplayed to our friends was no longer constrained by coastal distance or significant others. This was it…
So not only will our wedding date memorialize our vows, it will also be a celebration of the exact hour of our unity as soul mates, one year earlier. I liken the rarity of that coincidence to the purity of our affection, and I look forward to embodying the proof that marital odds can be beaten.
