Wherein I realize just how hard it really is.
I’m in the midst of, well, a funny chapter in my life. Let me explain. On paper: I’m engaged, living in New York City (which, after five years of being abroad is nice (more to come on that at a later date), especially considering my penchant for delis and rude East-Coasters), in a dreamy apartment (cue sparkly lights), going to a job I love every day. In my head: my fiancée lives in another country (which equates to lots of popcorn dinners and alone time), planning a wedding when your betrothed is so far away thus far kind of sucks (halp!). Not to sound like a whiner, but my Sunday scaries have increased exponentially, which in turn doesn’t make for a clear mind to start picking color schemes and calligraphers, you know?
Just to be clear, this isn’t how it was supposed to go down. And it may come as a surprise to those who know me as the hyper-organized planner of all things—I mean, I send my friends proper invitations for backyard drinks. So yeah, in my head I genuinely assumed this whole thing would come naturally. But wedding planning in its entirety threw me a serious curveball. In return I’ve thrown it the silent treatment—we’re at a stand-off, a ceasefire, if you will. But, I want to be married, like really married to my best friend, and like, yesterday. So I’m not trying to take the casual two-year-long engagement route either.
And trying to get to the bottom of why this standstill is even happening has proved just as hard. It’s not for lack of enthusiasm or want. Maybe it’s because all I want is for us to have the wedding we’ve always dreamed of (is that so hard?), something that reflects us perfectly as a couple (thanks society!), that the innate perfectionist inside me doesn’t want to even start until we’re both 100% there and living together again? And so it’s become like that lurking item on a never-ending to-do list that you never seem to scratch off.
That’s why today, the official kickoff of our second ever ~Wedding Week~ hits close to home. Honestly, these next five days of Coveteur-tinged bridal content make me excited—and they did last year, too, proving my theory that I was more of a wedding enthusiast before I got engaged—and is just the kind of motivation I need. As I type this, I’m some 30,000 feet in the air (side note: should we continue writing all of our editor’s letters from airplanes?) with $15 dollars worth of bridal magazines stuffed in my carry-on and a similar dollar amount of screw-top TSA-friendly wine tucked away. All of which make this as good a time as any to start. Wish me luck—and if you’re recently betrothed, in the early planning stages, or deep in the trenches spiraling out of control—I’m sending all good vibes your way, too.