It's hard to tell if it's the New Yorker in me that loves today's wedding (Shake Shack! Madison Square Park! A BBQ place I used to frequent!), or the Jewish convert in me that loves it... or if I just love it because it's so exactly right. Becky talks about how you won't remember the details, but you do have to fight for what's authentic for you. And that's why I still write this website, passionately, two years after our own wedding. Because I believe in weddings and the way they usher us through something fierce and powerful. But regardless, this could not be a more perfect wedding to usher everyone back to work after Labor Day. And now, Becky herself:

Being married has been so wonderful in itself, I almost hate to go back and dwell on the details of the wedding.  So I won't, but I do want to say a little bit about how it felt, the spirit of it all, and what I remember of the blurry beautiful weekend.

Our wedding was the culmination of seven years of getting to know each other, one and a half years of engagement, and over a year of being wed in the eyes of the civil government.  It also celebrated my conversion to Judaism, and the joining of our families and our cultures (I'm apple-pie American with roots in Pittsburgh and Alabama, he's Jewish with roots in Morocco and Scranton).  But mostly, it was a celebration of two people who were madly in love and so excited to begin their lives together they just couldn't keep it inside!

Our wedding represented "us" perfectly.  The best compliment we heard afterwards from numerous people was how authentic it felt.  We had originally booked a lovely waterfront Italian restaurant in Jersey City.  It would have been nice, just nice, and we were mainly just thrilled that a place was booked.  Then we went to see a friend's band play in the basement bar of Hill Country, a TX-style BBQ joint in Manhattan. Done and done.

We re-booked, upset some traditional-loving family members in the meantime, and searched ravenously for a ceremony space. Good thing Manhattan has parks. Continue reading Wedding Graduates: Becky & Etan

It's possible that today's Wedding Graduate post needs no introduction, except this: you should read it, even if you're long-married and never read these posts anymore. It might be the best written Wedding Grad post we've ever run. It certainly talks about the hugeness of marriage and how on your wedding day, the tidal wave of enormous competes with the minutiae of moments in time, and it sometimes overwhelms us. It will help you remember what you're wedding day felt like, how it changed you, and why. And if you want to read more of Kate's writing (you know you do), she writes at Eat The Damn Cake.

I threw up on my wedding night.

I don’t know where to start the story. Which is why instead of starting, I got some pizza, looked through some photos of friends of people I am friends with on Facebook, and watched an episode of Castle on Hulu. Then I clicked open a blank Word document, and here I am. Typing and looking at my hands on the dirty keyboard. Chipping turquoise nails, gold wedding band. Because I’m married. And when you don’t know where or how to start, the best thing to do is just start.

The world wants to ask me, “Does it feel different? How does it feel?”

And my answer is, “It feels different.” I think I’m supposed to say, “It feels exactly the same.” Because after all, we already loved each other a lot, and we were already living together, as most young modern couples are when they get married, and neither of us were virgins, and we’re pretty down to earth in general. We don’t run around dramatically with our feelings flapping in the wind. But it feels different. I can’t quite explain how, so I’ll tell you this:

I threw up on my wedding night.

Everyone was leaving. There were only a few people left at the venue. I was still in my dress, Bear was in his tux, we were trying to leave, but there were all these gifts, piled on a table by the doors. And we didn’t know how to get them home. I’d been smiling hysterically for about eight hours straight, and suddenly, I felt like I was going to fall over. Actually fall over, not just the way people say that to mean other things, like, “I was so happy and tired!” No. It hit me like a truck. It wasn’t cute. I was going to fall down. I leaned on Bear.

Then we were outside. People were still talking to me. They were carrying the gifts down to a cab. I was by the fence, at the bottom of the steps, in my enormous dress, sinking towards the sidewalk. My dress was a parachute. It was a nest. I was tiny in the middle of it. People driving by slowed down and stared. I could barely speak. I was going to throw up.

I was married. Bear was married. He had a gold ring on his finger. He looked like a married man in it. That’s what he kept saying when we tried on the rings, after we bought them. “Don’t I look married?” Then he’d make this little punching motion.

“Why are you punching?” I asked. “Why does wearing a wedding ring make you want to punch things?”

“It shows off the ring,” he said.

Masculinity. They need more options. Sigh. Continue reading Wedding Graduates: Kate & Bear