give me something more in 2013-2014

I spent most of the day with Aaron today, just sitting around (although I applied for a few jobs, too) and I regret nothing. When I left his place last night, I was restless after going to bed, just because I missed him. Not sexy times or anything specific. I just wanted to be nearby and throw an arm over him or something. It was maddening. And stupid. Mostly maddening. Obviously, he loves hearing that. So I compensated by spending most of the day at his place. I came home to feed and walk Sheppy and spend some time with them so they didn't feel too abandoned, but then went right back.

While I was busily not sleeping last night and giving into random anxious what ifs and having little heart-to-hearts with Jesus about said what ifs, one of the things I thought about was my response to wedding dress shopping. I've been vacillating, unable to commit to a single articulated desire and drifting between other people's thoughts. A wedding dress is the one thing I care about. Not to perfection, or blowing a budget, but I do care about what I wear. Venue, decorations and food, not really, but the dress, yes. That said, I am not a dress person. I have not spent the last twenty years planning my dream wedding. I don't have designers and styles and fashions dancing in my head like sugarplum fairies. So I don't really know where to start. With that uncertainty and inexperience, I've sort of just... let myself be helpless.

At least three people have declared the ardent desire to go wedding dress shopping with me. One is my best friend and maid of honor who does pay attention to fashion things and knows my body shape and budget and cares about me and my wedding because she's my freaking maid of honor and best friend, and we've been bouncing style ideas back and forth for three months. Two are friends here, which is a nice way of saying friends of Aaron's who are girls, whom I don't know that well. Both are... very very talkative? A little pushy? Forbidding me to wear a halter top? Seem to want to go dress shopping for the sake of a glorified shopping trip? One's happily married, at least, and has done this before. I wouldn't mind her showing me some places to look. The other is let my mom do your flowers and when do you want to go dress shopping how about Friday?

(Settle down. This is my wedding, not yours.)

This really just underscores my entire attitude about the wedding thus far, though: passive. It's a thing that is happening to me that I tolerate and I grudgingly have responsibility for. It's a chore. (This viewpoint has not changed.) But if I don't want to get run over by other people's heedless enthusiasm, I at least have to pretend to give more fucks. I need to be... proactive. And... care.

(Gag.)

(We have looked at each other, cringed, and agreed that everyone else cares way more than we do.)

Aaron cares way more than I do, but he's also way more... deer in the headlights than I am. He stares at responsibilities that land in his hands and has to do deep breathing exercises before hyperventilating. He literally did that about six times before proposing, with the staring-at-the-ring and deep-breathing. He covered well (acting school!) but he was kind of a wreck. He takes things/me very seriously. Which is great. This is a serious thing. But it kind of paralyzes him a little. And now we're both suddenly passive and cringing.

We got engaged in April. It's August. We sort of have a date in mind. You can see how well this approach has served us.

I need a strategy.

I need to know what I want. And to care enough to make it happen.

Strategy. Because then I can put down deadlines and give him something to stare at and heavy breathe over and do besides just kind of acknowledge.

Uuggghh.

The one thing I've figured is that I need to go dress shopping, at least initially, on my own, without other people talking my ear off about their preferences and themselves and how much they love playing dress up, and without any nervous auto-coping mechanism on my own part with the over-compliance and default-to-sarcasm. I need to look at prices, ask about seasonal styles, get sized, and find out what can be altered reasonably and what shouldn't be. I need to have a foundation on which to plant my feet before letting other people in.

I need to sit down and visualize my dream wedding and then scale down to what can be accomplished without putting us in debt. I need to be honest with myself, which is kind of horrifying, because even in my own head I resort to sarcasm, where it's safe. I need to... let myself feel and dream and be romantic and oh god oh god where's the wine

--saved by the cat playing in the blind cord! Bad kitty.

Okay, so what was I thinking... right, wine.

Tonight we watched two episodes of How I Met Your Mother on Netflix. It was the two-parter where Robin and Barney get engaged.

I said, "You know how I know getting engaged is actually traumatic? When he knelt down with the ring, I actually kind of froze." Like a flashback.

He said, "I had this pipe dream, pipe dream, that you would have happy tears."

I said, "I'm sorry I'm broken."

We then discussed, reluctantly, how his side of the family is a bunch of criers and they are going to be crying and bawling the whole time, and mine will do the repressed-northern-Catholic thing and hate crying and my dad and I will be the last to go, and will do anything including making asses of ourselves to stop it, but eventually give in and how there is probably going to be hate sex on the wedding night because how dare you make me cry you bastard and I'm not allowed to cuss him out in the church but I can convey the fuck you sentiment with my eyes and how he'll just be like 'aw yeah you will.' And then we made out a lot and I left.

We're really not very good at this.