My wife and I recently attended a wedding and it sure was an eye-opener. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself. I did. It was a nice wedding. Beautiful garden ceremony at a very nice hotel on the marina. Perhaps 11 am is a tad on the early side, but pleasant. It’s just that everything is different when you attend a wedding after you’ve been married awhile. And have kids. Everything. I should say that my wife and I have been married for thirteen years, and we are very happily married. And we have kids.
And I’m telling you -- it’s just different.
For example, one thing that made me super happy at this wedding is that they served coffee upon our arrival. There was a big urn filled with delicious hot coffee and satisfyingly solid coffee mugs! Mugs I tell you! The faces of every married couple perked up when they found out about the coffee. Sample conversation between us and some close married friends:
Us: Oh hi – how are you? We’re so happy to see you!
Other Couple: It’s great to see you guys! It’s been a long time... Hey is that coffee?
Us: Yeah. Coffee. It’s really good too. Go get some.
See, people with kids need coffee. This coffee was a very positive sign for Paul and Jasmine’s wedding: they demonstrated that they care about us - the guests. That’s exactly the type of reassurance we “couples with children” need. I bet lunch is going to be wonderful.
I should mention a key point here: This was an “adults only” wedding. So as we delighted in our caffeine bliss, we inquired about the baby-sitter arrangements. Each couple explained who was watching their kids. Being “sans enfants” with other “sans enfants” couples at a social gathering is an extremely rare situation. With a younger crowd, this type of freedom could easily set off an orgy. Not a concern here, as we are all far too tired for that. Yet, for couples in the midst of a temporary kid-free dreamworld, it is like being whisked away on a hot air balloon without pants. And the younger your kids, the higher your balloon floats. You feel very free. It’s lovely and it’s intoxicating. We had it all. Coffee, and no kids.
But trouble loomed, at least for the men. You see, the men were all wearing dark suits, and it was partly sunny. Sweat began to bead on our faces! Suddenly I was melting inside my suit! When we were younger, and single this never happened! When is this wedding going to start!? My god, Global Warming! I briefly contemplate if I could pull off wearing an all-white suit like Travolta in Staying Alive. Sadly the answer is no. But the point is moot. I’m melting in my dark suit. Meanwhile, my wife, who is sitting right next to me, is wearing a dress and a wool coat. Yes. Wool. Coat. And get this: she was drawing residual heat from her coffee mug, pressing it against her cheeks. The lesson for you newlyweds: couples with children require individualized thermal settings.
I tried to concentrate on something else besides the heat. Back when I was single, it was easy: I’d check out the bridesmaids and other single ladies at the wedding. I’d laugh at heat! I’d generate my own heat! That instinct never really goes away. But today I found myself pondering details like “why is one groomsman wearing sunglasses, but none of the others? Who is going to clean up all these rose petals? I hope they compost them. I really can’t even hear that violin. Is she really playing? Is that what “sotto” means?”
The minister launches into his schpiel while I wonder what will be served at the reception. I’m hungry, but I snap out of my reverie when he starts to talk about THE ONE. Paul and Jasmine, like most newlyweds, were meant for each other. A miracle has occurred and brought them together. Somehow, against all odds, they found each other. It seems to be standard wedding fare. But then I start doing some calculations in my head, thinking about all the people on the planet Earth. Maybe this minister is mocking me. I twist his loving speech in my mind:
“You married folks have so much baggage that there is only one true love that will put up with your shit.” Is that true? Is my wife the only one on the planet with whom I’m compatible? She’s the only one that would love me? No, that can’t be true. I’m weird maybe, but I’m not that bad. I’m still loveable. Right?
This mockery leads me to indignation. HEY! I was a newlywed once. A fine newlywed. In fact, my wife and I had a very long and romantic “schmoopie” phase which sickened PLENTY of people, I will have you know. In retrospect, it’s humiliating, but man, she was THE ONE. And I’m pretty sure I was THE ONE too.
Suddenly we are at the reception and concerns about my worldwide compatibility give way to enjoyment of a very nice heirloom tomato salad. For all of us married couples at the table, the food is made ever so delicious by the absence of our children. The subtle nuances delight my tastebuds (this salt is so salty!) as I say yes to a refill of wine. And then every single couple spends the next hour talking about our children. As much as we enjoy being without them, we can’t stop thinking about them. To outsiders, I’m sure it must be as annoying as our schmoopie phase. And then it hits me, and I understand why I’m stuck with my one true love, and she is stuck with me. Yup. She’s THE ONE.
Happy Valentines Day.
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Greg, keep up the writing, I really enjoyed it. Jacob
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