A few nights ago I dreamed that I didn't have time to give our DJ playlists for the wedding and reception. Something horrifying was playing - Locomotion? Love Shack? - and I was staring at the DJ from across the lawn thinking, 'How did this happen? What is this horrible music? This isn't Sam Cooke!"
My nightmares are not about marriage or long-term commitment, but about party music.
A few weeks ago I asked Ray if he was nervous about getting married. He said that he is.
"I'm nervous about being a good husband. I'm nervous I won't see problems until they are too late, and I want to be sure that I can fix things before they become bigger problems."
Then he asked me if I was nervous about getting married.
I stared at him while I debated if I should tell the truth or if I should make up something more soul-searching.
I opted for the truth.
"Yes. I am nervous people aren't going to have fun at the party and it will be lame and no one will dance and everyone will leave by 8 and we'll be stuck with all those brownies to eat by ourselves."
Then I started to make up stuff to be nervous about, except I am terrible at conjuring up fake feelings.
"I mean, I might be nervous about being a good wife. But... umm... not really because... well... I adore you. That will be easy. But there's the reception... and I have to make sure we have a photobooth because if you don't have a photobooth at your wedding then your party is nothing."
Visions of wedding guests gleefully piling into the photobooth drunk on Summer Shandy and brownies danced in my head.
So while Ray is wringing his hands over the type of man he wants to be, I'm making Do Not Play lists for the DJ. Because so help me God if YMCA comes on I will lose it.
I am
No comments:
Post a Comment