I handed over the reigns last night; handed over the reigns of further wedding planning to the groom.
Yes, the groom.
It is not that I do not want to be married, actually it's quite the contrary. I want to be married more than nearly anything. Perhaps it's because I am not caught up in the glitz, glamor, and shit that doesn't matter. I know that I love that guy; even when he absent mindly forgets to put the trash to the curb on Tuesday mornings or starts laughing when I kiss him on the cheek and neck, because it's tickling him (I swear, that man has sensitive skin more than anyone I have known). I have been practicing writing my name as "Monica Leiker" since the week we became official (May 20, 2010) and, duh, have already named our six GIRLS we'll be having (with the grace of God). To quote Stoney LaRue "With you by my side, I can do without the city limits" and we'll be doing without city limits, here in about a week.
I was feeling the slow creeping tide of stress trickling towards me as I thought "Shit, invitations? Fuck. I am betting creating a private Facebook event is considered tacky?" The only two things that I was slightly concerned with was: flowers, booze, and food. Flowers? I have that done. Booze? Not yet, per say, but I know that we're having an extreme ample amount of beer and wine ("Fo FREE, of course" It's our party for you), and some of SE Colorado's best BBQ for the dinner. Other than that? Eh, yeah. Not too worried. I've been through experiences and witnessed weddings (I'm looking at you, Melanie Bergkamp Newell) that so much effort was placed into little details: center pieces, lights, table cloths. And those weddings were beautiful. Stunning. And some of those weddings, the marriages were not meant to last. Which is normal. Shit happens. Humans are humans.
But, I do not believe for a minute that that my lack of desire to stress over lights, invitations, center pieces, and cakes means that I do not want to marry Aaron Leiker. I would go down to the court house TODAY (if he did not like the idea of the attention and everyone looking at him, which he does). Truth be told, the man likes attention: he knows, he admits to it, and everyone know it. So, I am going to let him have the attention and take over the rest of this event.
To prove that he was comfortable with this role assertion, he was looking at wedding invitations last night. I think I may enjoy being the typical groom (not doing shit, but showing up the day of) quite well.
Unless, of course, the cast of "Glee" show up for the dance.
