Reveille
Daniel and I were sitting in a Middle Eastern restaurant downtown, eating falafel with hummus, when he, very unceremoniously, said, “Hey, Maddie! Let’s get married!”
“Um, whah???” My mouth was full of food, and I kind of forgot which I should do first: chew, speak or breathe.
We had been seeing each other for five months, living together for three, and had been friends for the last three years, a time which included the unraveling of my relationship with Craig in Detroit.
We were in love; and had fallen in with each other so easily when I left Michigan. Daniel had decided that I was “the one” and that he was ready to “settle down,” so why wait? We had a good thing, we love each other; it follows that we should get married. Like, the sooner the better.
I never make on-the-spot decisions.
Three days later I said yes.
He wanted a civil marriage at the courthouse. "No way," I said, "I am my parents' only daughter. And I want a wedding." With a bent toward the unconventional, while maintaining the solemnity of the occasion.
We decided to have the wedding in the summer, to keep the guest list as small as possible. I wanted it on the full moon, which meant our dates were limited. We planned and executed an amazing event in just over eight weeks.
It was an outdoor wedding in July with 100 guests, at dusk on a small hillside farm in the country. Our families were there (his came from the Middle East for a week), along with close friends. Our friend Evan was the photographer, his wife Nancy did the catering. My brother’s best friends served the food, and our pal Sammy was the DJ.
We called in a million favors—flowers, my dress, music, chairs and decorations all involved friends or family—and when we were finished, it was all so sweet and lovely.
Exactly what I wanted. The person I loved and wanted to be with forever was with me under the stars before the people who loved us most.
He thought I was amazing, smart, spectacular. I was in awe of his charisma, his infectious energy and his love for me.
We ate, drank and danced; eventually moving the guests inside the barn, remodeled and fitted with air conditioning and plumbing. There was a guest bedroom inside, where we would sleep that night. The whole evening was like a dream. No one wanted to go home.
Family members started to leave around midnight. The dancing continued until 4 AM.
The party lasted five years.
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“Um, whah???” My mouth was full of food, and I kind of forgot which I should do first: chew, speak or breathe.
We had been seeing each other for five months, living together for three, and had been friends for the last three years, a time which included the unraveling of my relationship with Craig in Detroit.
We were in love; and had fallen in with each other so easily when I left Michigan. Daniel had decided that I was “the one” and that he was ready to “settle down,” so why wait? We had a good thing, we love each other; it follows that we should get married. Like, the sooner the better.
I never make on-the-spot decisions.
Three days later I said yes.
He wanted a civil marriage at the courthouse. "No way," I said, "I am my parents' only daughter. And I want a wedding." With a bent toward the unconventional, while maintaining the solemnity of the occasion.
We decided to have the wedding in the summer, to keep the guest list as small as possible. I wanted it on the full moon, which meant our dates were limited. We planned and executed an amazing event in just over eight weeks.
It was an outdoor wedding in July with 100 guests, at dusk on a small hillside farm in the country. Our families were there (his came from the Middle East for a week), along with close friends. Our friend Evan was the photographer, his wife Nancy did the catering. My brother’s best friends served the food, and our pal Sammy was the DJ.
We called in a million favors—flowers, my dress, music, chairs and decorations all involved friends or family—and when we were finished, it was all so sweet and lovely.
Exactly what I wanted. The person I loved and wanted to be with forever was with me under the stars before the people who loved us most.
He thought I was amazing, smart, spectacular. I was in awe of his charisma, his infectious energy and his love for me.
We ate, drank and danced; eventually moving the guests inside the barn, remodeled and fitted with air conditioning and plumbing. There was a guest bedroom inside, where we would sleep that night. The whole evening was like a dream. No one wanted to go home.
Family members started to leave around midnight. The dancing continued until 4 AM.
The party lasted five years.
sex
sexblogs
weddings
marriage
4 Comments:
Ma chatte, enquiring minds want to know what that veiled sound of betrayal comes from when hearing of party pooper Daniel. I'd like to think you simply changed the guest list but your party goes on.
madeline can not NOT have a party going on. that girl has it IN her.
shit, why did i have to say that? now i wish i were in her...
damn. i miss you.
It sounds like quite the party.
I wish I had been there--you know,like Dustin Hoffman at the end of "The Graduate."
We would have had a lot to talk about on the bus, before credits rolled.
But really, would either of us have believed it?
J-
Would you like me to seduce you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?
Do we believe it now?
M-
Um, why did you have to say that? Seriously. Sigh. Many happy thoughts to complete this day.
F-
You are in luck. I've decided to disclose. Laissez la partie continuer!
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