reclaiming wife

Posts Tagged ‘Calling Off Your Wedding’

A little over a year ago, Sara from The Meanest Look was brave enough to kick-off a conversation about calling off your wedding. She'd recently done just that and was terrified to talk about it online, but still brave enough to do it. When your comments flooded in, I was actually able to witness Sara healing a little bit. Then her comments and emails would pop up now and then, making me laugh and letting me know she was doing better and better. And then sometime last summer I heard the news... from a really dark place, something amazing had taken root and grown. So here is Sara, proving that when we're strong enough to say no to what's wrong for us, blazing, brilliant, unexpected happiness is possible.

Last May, after calling off my wedding, my mom took me to Ireland to find a husband. No, really. She kept talking about some movie called PS I Love You and how I was sure to meet a husband. Well that didn’t happen. But April 27th of this year I fell in love. His name is Duncan Everett, and he is my newborn son. Love at first sight. Oh yeah, his dad is pretty nifty, too!

Baby Dustin

I had known Mike (Duncan’s papa) for a while through one of my girlfriends that I played roller derby with. We’d causally smile and say hi at parties we were both at. No big deal. Finally he asked me out at one of those parties. This man had seen me wrestle that same derby girlfriend half nekkid in oatmeal nearly three years earlier and he was just NOW asking me out! Good thing he was cute or I may not have gone out with him.

As it turned out, our relationship was all about timing. When he finally asked me out, I was in a place in my life where I was ready to appreciate a guy like Mike. A guy that it turns out is a perfect match for me. Our love story isn’t an ostentatious one. It’s real, at times messy, and the best one I’ve ever known. Three months into dating, Mike and I were in love and happy. Then came the bombshell. I was preggers. We thought very hard about the reality of our situation and decided – BAM! — we were going to have a baby.

A b-a-b-y. We were going to become a family. Continue reading The Wedding Dropout Returns

This morning's post is brilliant and brave. It reads like a well written novel, but it's not. It's the truth. It's the story of a wedding that should have been called off, along with the message that it's always easier to call of a wedding than a marriage. It's a story of descent into tragedy, and the road to redemption. And now, Manya, with her story.

{Manya on her wedding day}

In the pictures everybody appears to be smiling. But if you look closely, my eyes are red-rimmed and they don’t have those telltale “authenticity crinkles” around them. I’m clutching a Kleenex in my hand, as well as my bouquet. There’s one where my parents are in a huddle with our pastor, being consoled. My dad—nothing if not a  sport—allows himself to be wrapped in a West African King’s attire (a huge drape of Kente cloth); his shoulders are tensed to his ears. There’s a painful snapshot where the family dog is parked on my train licking her crotch. It would probably be funny if I didn’t already know as we were taking those pictures that I was making a mistake. It might be a real lark if it wasn’t colored by the endless days of darkness that characterized our divorce.

The living room of my parents’ house was truly beautiful that night, and had I felt differently deep down in my gut (where it counts), this could have been a truly fabulous wedding grad post. It would have been about an intimate, romantic and affordable living-room winter wedding between a winsome West African man and an idealistic young woman so in love they would beat all the odds. I pretended it was just nausea from my two-month long pregnancy, but the bile I fought to swallow as I waited to walk down the stairs to the song that didn’t quite fit us, was a rising sense of panic. My body had been trying to tell me all week not to go ahead with it all: it started with a galloping case of cold sores, then progressed to a heinous sinus infection, and  because I was two months pregnant I couldn’t take any medicine. I got sicker and sicker as the day approached.

Finally it was the big day: New Year’s Eve. The spa where I had planned to spend a day of bonding with my sister refused to touch my viral, pregnant self. There was the requisite comic interlude with my bouquet: it looked more like “Miami Vice” than “Winter Fairyland” and it ended with my best friend pounding down the door of a farmers’ market and scraping together a $9 bouquet that was absolutely perfect.

I had bought tons of creamy candles on post-Christmas clearance. They were cradled in different crystal votives and balanced on mismatched crystal candlesticks. A few bare branches and pine boughs rolled in fairy glitter gleamed over the fireplace, and the big window that framed us as we exchanged vows revealed a chrome-crisp Maine winter night bright with stars. I remember the theme of our address was “Crazy Love.” Our wise pastor warned us of our love being tested beyond what we ever anticipated. My throat ached. Afterward my new husband played the tam tams, we sipped champagne left over from my sister’s wedding earlier that year, and snacked on appetizers ordered from a restaurant in town.

After the ceremony we headed downtown to Portland’s most fabulous restaurant (Street & Co.) where I ended up hyperventilating and passing out in the bathroom. My sister found me there, slushy grime streaking my skirt as I leaned on the toilet hot tears seeping out of my eyes, fever flushing my cheeks. She took off my corset bra so I could breathe, hid it under her shawl, and told the waiter we’d be having this reception (and cake) to go, thank you very much.  We all ended up eating cake in our PJs and laughing. On our wedding night, my husband cooled my fever with a wet rag, and lovingly rubbed my feet. He was so thoroughly happy and I thought: “This will be ok.”

Three years later, Eat, Pray, Love-Style, I was again weeping on the floor of a bathroom, as I decided to leave my husband. Over the years, many people have asked me: What were you THINKING? The edge of judgment barely concealed. My uncle asked me the same question gently, with a tone of respect… the way he asked it let me know he assumed I was thinking something logical and smart, because that’s the kind of woman I am… thoughtful. Here’s what I told him:

Well… there was a civil war, a little girl, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. There was a strong family mythology around marriage: meet young, struggle and grow up together, and love is work, by the way. Continue reading Reclaiming Wife: The Wedding I Should Have Called Off

After our recent discussions about the 'till death do us part' aspect of marriage, Sarah, who writes over at San Francisco Budget Wedding, wanted to write a post about surviving divorce, and what it took for her to get married again. I'd like to write a long intro for you, but I don't think I need to. Her wise and experanced words stand on their own.

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I am not just a Wedding Dropout, I am a Marriage Dropout.  It's not that I'm divorced, but I was the one who walked away from my first marriage.  Throughout my separation and divorce, I spent a lot of time exploring the whys and wherefores, trying to understand exactly why I stayed married as long as I did and why I couldn't stay married to my ex husband any longer, and also working to make sure that I am getting married to my fiance (I am not getting remarried; they are different people and these are two very different relationships.  There is no "re" here) for the right reasons -- and trying to identify what those right reasons are. When I kept reading so many questions from commenters asking, "How do you know if you should call off the wedding?", I felt compelled to offer my story.

Two Weddings That Never Should Have Been

A few weeks ago, Liz commented, "I know someone getting married. and our friend asked her, 'when did you know when you were in love?' and she replied, 'that’s not how it works. we’ve just been together for a long time, and he’s still hanging around, and this is kind of the next step. right, Liz?'"  When my fiance proposed to his ex wife, this was how it happened.  They had been dating for a few years, and she started making noises that it was time to go the "next step," so he figured that was what he was supposed to do.  Not surprisingly, the marriage did not work out.  I cannot stress enough that no one should ask, and no one should say yes, just because you've spent a lot of time together.  If you can't come up with a better reason to get married, don't.

I, too, married for wrong, but different, reasons.  I knew that there was something missing from the beginning.  We lacked ... electricity.  But we were good friends, and after two bad breakups, I mistakenly believed that passion fades over time, but friendship will always remain.  What I was too young to understand is that the passion may come and go, but it also sustains a relationship over rough patches that strain a friendship to the breaking point. There were times during the engagement that I came close to calling it off.  I was uncomfortable with how, and how often, we fought.  I missed sparks.  I should have listened to my instincts, but I was afraid to call off the wedding. My parents were on a very tight budget at the time, and they had already put down deposits on the church, the reception venue, the band, the flowers, the cake, favors, decorations, wedding party attire and gifts, etc., etc..  My dress was bought and paid for; the rings were purchased.  The wedding train was chugging along at a fast clip, and I was afraid to jump off the moving train. If I had been engaged when I was older, or perhaps at a time when I was not as vulnerable from past hurts that were still healing, maybe I would have had the nerve to call off my first wedding.  But I didn't.

If calling off an engagement is painful, calling off a marriage is like breaking an engagement on steroids.  Lots of steroids.  I often compare getting divorced to exploding a bomb into the middle of your existence.  The worst part is that you can never be fully prepared for a divorce.  It does not matter if you are the one who wants it.  I was shocked at how difficult it was to separate myself emotionally from a relationship that I thought long dead.  If this was something I yearned for, why was it so painful?  I lost family and friends I loved.  I disappointed and embarassed them.  I hurt my ex more than I will ever understand.  My divorce -- a divorce I asked for and insisted on -- broke me emotionally.  This wasn't your average crying for weeks after a breakup emotional breakdown.  I shut down.  I would go to work and stare at my computer.  Frozen.  I couldn't read.  The words would jump around on the page; nothing made sense.

If calling off a wedding seems expensive, divorce is exponentially so.  Unhappy couples often accumulate significant consumer debt.  Before the separation, we attempted to fill in the voids in our lives with stuff.  Stuff is expensive, and you usually can't give it back.  After the separation, I suddenly had the cost of two households on half the income.  I needed to pay off joint debts, mediators and lawyers.  I still had all of our regular child care costs of daycare, books, clothing and extracurricular expenses.  I still needed to eat and pay my other monthly bills.  I was lucky.  I only went through foreclosure. I didn't have to file bankruptcy.  I am still paying off marital debt.

In the face of all that, it's hard to remember why I was worried about calling off a wedding just because we had spent a couple thousand dollars on dresses, deposits and wedding favors.

On Remarriage and Trusting My Instincts

I would not be here as a Wedding Undergraduate if my fiance was any other person.  I would not be dating at all.  But I am a rare lucky person.  Tony was my first boyfriend and my first love.  I met him when I was 14 and he was 17.  We broke up two weeks before my 16th birthday, and I didn't see him again until almost 21 years later.  The first time we saw each other again, we hugged and held hands.  I felt like I had finally found home. Continue reading From Divorce (And Back)

On Criticism and Love

I spend a lot of time worrying that by writing this site I'm glamorizing marriage. (I worry less about glamorizing weddings because, hello, I'm pretty sure the wedding industry has that covered.) But I spend a lot of time writing about the ways that marriage can be a really positive force in our lives, and I worry that comes off as, "Marriage is the answer," and I really, really don't think that. I think *good* marriages can be wonderful and empowering, and there are not a lot of places for smart women to discuss that honestly. But h*ll, when I was single in my 20's (and I was *very* single for four years running... which is rare in your early 20's in New York City) I would have written you a novel about why being single was wonderful and empowering.

I worry because I hear really well intentioned things in the comments like, "All weddings are beautiful" and "All marriages are wonderful," and in my experience that has not been true. One of my sassy and smart girl friends had a story of being a bridesmaid and telling the bride, "I have the keys to the car hidden in my bouquet. And if AT ANY POINT you decide you don't want to go through with this, give me the high-sign and we are so out of here." And yeah, I've been there. And yeah, marriages that start with the bridesmaid hiding the car keys in her bouquet often don't end well. So I was more then ready to hear it when reader Charlotte contacted me wanting to write about when you should think about NOT getting married. About when you should listen to those who love you. About how to differentiate selfish b*tching from real concern. So, here is Charlotte. I know saying, "Sometimes you shouldn't get married," is a little explosive... but I think you guys can take it.

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About a week ago I contacted Meg asking if she or somebody else could write an article about people who give the bride undue criticism about her partner that is neither welcome nor appreciated. I got to thinking over the weekend of apartment hunting about two grand philosophical questions that have been bugging me for YEARS. One, how do you tell somebody you love that you think they are making a mistake and two, how do you know when to listen and when to ignore the concern of people who love you? I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have volunteered my services to Meg because I am thinking that these questions are perhaps larger than their answer. One thing I love love love about APW is that is provides women of all different backgrounds, sexual preference, age, and religion a healthy forum to discuss their future marriages. Comments constantly repeat some of my favorite words: commitment, communication, love, and companionship. All things that make a wonderful marriage. However, I have been the unhappy member of several weddings where these things weren’t present.

Let me give some back-story here. Ten years ago my older sister was coming out of a REALLY bad relationship (drug addicted guy who stole her college money, and spent it all on stuff going up his nose) and met somebody she considered the man of her dreams. They dated for two weeks, got engaged, and three months later were married. This conveniently coincided with the expiration date for his green card. Sure he didn’t do drugs and he had a real job, but he constantly belittled her and made her feel bad about herself.  So there I was, biting my nails at the wedding while everybody else glowed with congratulations. I don’t know how many times my mom tapped me on the shoulder and told me to shut my mouth. After six years of insults, neglect, and cheating they divorced.

Another case in point, my younger sister. At 19 she thought it was a great idea to drop out of college and get married to a drug addicted, pathological liar. When I asked her at the time "just why are you doing this?" she came up with a lot of the reasons we all give for getting married “we’re in love”, “I want to commit my life to this person”, “He makes me a better person”. All perfectly credible reasons to get married, right? They divorced 7 months later.

I could go on and on with case studies here, I’ve got loads. There are certain similarities in my friends and family members who entered into bad marriages that they knew (yes, they did know it at the time, they just weren’t honest about it, you can ask them yourselves) were going to be bad.

  • Reluctance to be alone. My sisters could never, ever be single. By that I mean a consistent stream of boyfriends from the age of 13 until today with very short breaks. Not that this means you are codependent, but it can be really big read flag. It’s hard this day and age to be single. Particularly when our entire culture tells women through constant advertising that our worth is based on what men think of us. If no boys are into you, you must be worthless. Our culture also places enormous pressure on women to get married. Just check out the Supreme Court hearings. If you don’t get married you don’t fit the mold of what a woman’s life should be. No big day? No poofy dress? No perfect family?*
  • “I’m going to prove them wrong” syndrome. My friend Amy, (not her real name) dated a guy 24 years older than her who trafficked drugs throughout the Caribbean, stole, refused to wear a condom, and forgot her birthday. When I asked her why did you stay with him so long she said it was because she wanted to prove everybody wrong. So many people kept telling her he was bad news that she needed to stay with him long enough just to prove to herself and others that he was a good guy.
  • Really low self esteem. Let me just say my friend Amy is hot. Blond, blue eyed, perfect skin, tall, and she looks stunning in heels. And she is an amazing human being. All her friends know this. Everybody knows this, except Amy. Because Amy thought she wasn’t worth anything she dated guys who treated her badly and made her question her self worth.

SO how do we know when to listen to our concerned friends or family, and how do we tell people we love that we are concerned for them?

Continue reading On Criticism and Love

I get a lot of emails about cold feet. Women freaking out about getting married, and wondering if it's the right thing to do. I'm not a therapist (and hello, if your cold feet get freezing, you should talk to one NOW), but I do read a lot of these emails, and have some thoughts. First, I think worrying about making a huge life decision is totally normal. I think worrying about the complex nature of a wedding, or the unknowable nature of marriage is probably the hallmark of being a smart and self aware woman about to make a huge leap.* However, if your cold feet come in the form of, "I'm not sure I love my fiance," or, "I love my fiance but I'm starting to think marrying him/her might be a bad idea," then, I would you encourage you to slow down your wedding plans.

But today isn't about that, exactly. Today is about the amazing story that Team Practical member Kimberly, who writes these days over at Brave Bride (tagline: Budget, Beauty, Balls), has shared with me over the last month or so. It's the story of her coming to terms with her cold feet (with a video that made me all teary and mind-blown) and it makes me want to French kiss the world.

First, bits of the email Kimberly sent me a month and a half ago:

My fiance was away this past weekend for his bachelor party, so I had a lot of time to be alone with my cold feet. I was so nervous about saying 'I do' for, you know, ever and EVER, that it caused me to stay up at night downing a jumbo bag of M&M's while watching a marathon of Toddlers & Tiaras (a reality show that is scary enough as it is!). And then I cried myself to sleep, confused AND feeling guilty about my confusion.

There are 2 issues that are causing me to have cold feet, and neither of them have anything to do with how much I love my fiance:

  • The awareness that my fiance and I will inevitably be attracted (physically, emotionally, or spiritually) to someone else at some point in our lives. This doesn't mean infidelity is inevitable, but I it *might* mean that temptation is inevitable. Scary. As. Hell.
  • I can't help but take note of my parents' tragic marriage and that of 50% of other American marriages. Now if that's not discouraging and depressing, I don't know what is.

As for the first point, there are multiple people in this world with whom we could have a potentially wonderful romantic partnership. There are people who can make us laugh harder than our fiances can. And there are people who are not even capable of making us as annoyed as our fiances do at times. So what's a girl to do when she's bent on all of these heavy thoughts? She talks to her fiance about it. And when I talked to mine, he did his usual little magic trick where he talks me down from the ledge...

My fiance Brian assured me that what I'm feeling is normal, and what I'm thinking is true. But he also said that if I keep holding back from fully committing because the grass is always greener in another cute boy's yard, I'm going to miss out on all of the wonderful, kick-ass things that are unique to a long-term relationship. (I know, I know...he's SUCH a keeper, ain't he?)

Continue reading Wedding Undergraduate: Brave Bride & Cold Feet

I know this is a site about weddings and marriage. But I don't always think about it exactly that way anymore. I think about it as this place that all these amazing women gather to share stories. Because we tell a lot of stories related to weddings and marraige and life relationships, the stories tend to be emotional (and pretty...) but that's not the whole point. After I published Sara's mind-blowingly brave story of calling off her wedding, I heard from lots of you. Turns out lots of you have called off previous weddings, or never thought you would call off your wedding ever... until suddenly you needed to. But most recently I heard from a blogger who goes by Ms. Loaf. Loaf was a pretty serious commenter on APW a year or so ago, and I assumed she'd gotten married and gotten quiet. So when I saw and email from her with the subject "Wedding Dropout," the bottom sort of fell out of my stomach.

But by the time I'd finished reading her post, I felt my heart again. Really felt it. Because her story is such a sweet story of redemption. It, for me, is a reminder of how all those really sh*tty painful things we've all been through get us... closer, I think. Closer to where we need to be, or what we need to figure out. Or that's what her post did for me. (and you can read lots more of Loaf over at More of This & Less of That.)

I am a wedding drop out. June 20 was supposed to be my one-year wedding anniversary.

For two years, I kept a blog documenting my relationship and road to the altar called Tales of a Female Husband. We were planning a legal wedding in Ontario, with many wedding elves helping us out, including Emily, a good friend of mine from college who would be our photographer. I loved wedding blogging, finding a community of offbeat bride bloggers and, especially, lesbian bride bloggers, since there was not a lot of support from my family, and my friends were all far away, scattered around the country. Not only was I excited for my wedding to make a public commitment and affirmation of my love for my partner, but I couldn’t wait to see all my friends.

Unfortunately, the relationship ended about as badly as I could imagine four months before the big day. Emily had just gotten engaged, and I couldn’t bear to trash my lovingly collected wedding paraphernalia, so I tearfully packed up a box full of wedding books and magazines and the Paloma’s Nest ring bowl we intended to use for the ring warming. My heart was utterly broken, and I didn’t think I would ever be able to think about a wedding, much less attend one without crying.

In a way, I was right.

A few months after my would-be wedding day, I got a letter from Emily asking me to officiate her wedding. The date? June 19.

I said yes immediately, knowing what an honor my friend had bestowed on me, and eager to be a part of such a special day. So many friends shied away from me, refusing to hear my opinion or ask my advice on wedding planning, seeming to think I was cursed. Emily never made me feel that way, something which went a long way toward helping me heal. The hardest thing for me about not getting married (aside, of course, from the broken heart) was that I felt embarrassed. Here I had put all my hopes and dreams, all my planning, all my dress fittings and accessories and wedding invites and engagement pictures on the internet for all to see, and then I never followed through. It was so unlike me, the perpetual planner, the girl who never gives up! I was so embarrassed that I quit blogging. Being part of a community and then, suddenly, no longer belonging there felt like a one-two punch of breakup and abandonment. My initial solution was to withdraw completely from anything and everything wedding. It just hurt too much. But now I know that just because my relationship ended and I never made it to the altar doesn’t mean I’m not still capable of contributing to weddinghood and marriage. Continue reading Wedding Dropout: Joy From Pain