All Weddings are Royal, All Marriages Sacred

Dependants
How good we are for each other, walking through a land of silence and darkness. You open doors for me, I answer the phone for you. I play jungle loud. You read with the light on. Beautiful. The curve of your cheekbone, explosive vowels, exact use of cologne. What are you thinking? I ask in a language of touch unique to us. You tap my palm nothing much. At stations we compete senses, see which comes first—light in the tunnel, whiplash down the rail. I kick your shins when we go out for meals. You dab my lips. I finger yours like Braille.

by Paul Farley

For Bobby and Lisa on Their Wedding Day

When a Woman Loves a Man

When she says Margarita she means Daiquiri.
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, "I'll never speak to you again,"
she means, "Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window."

He's supposed to know that.

When a man loves a woman he is in New York and she is in Virginia
or he is in Boston, writing, and she is in New York, reading,
or she is wearing a sweater and sunglasses in Balboa Park and he
    is raking leaves in Ithaca
or he is driving to East Hampton and she is standing disconsolate
at the window overlooking the bay
where a regatta of many-colored sails is going on
while he is stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.

When a woman loves a man it is one-ten in the morning,
she is asleep he is watching the ball scores and eating pretzels
drinking lemonade
and two hours later he wakes up and staggers into bed
where she remains asleep and very warm.

When she says tomorrow she means in three or four weeks.
When she says, "We're talking about me now,"
he stops talking. Her best friend comes over and says,
"Did somebody die?"

When a woman loves a man, they have gone
to swim naked in the stream
on a glorious July day
with the sound of the waterfall like a chuckle
of water ruching over smooth rocks,
and there is nothing alien in the universe.

Ripe apples fall about them.
What else can they do but eat?

When he says, "Ours is a transitional era."
"That's very original of you," she replies,
dry as the Martini he is sipping.

They fight all the time
It's fun
What do I owe you?
Let's start with an apology
Ok, I'm sorry, you dickhead.
A sign is held up saying "Laughter."
It's a silent picture.
"I've been fucked without a kiss," she says,
"and you can quote me on that,"
which sounds great in an English accent.

One year they broke up seven times and threatened to do it
    another nine times.

When a woman loves a man, she wants him to meet her at the
    airport in a foreign country with a jeep.
When a man loves a woman he's there. He doesn't complain that
    she's two hours late
and there's nothing in the refrigerator.

When a woman loves a man, she wants to stay awake.
She's like a child crying
at nightfall because she didn't want the day to end.

When a man loves a woman, he watches her sleep, thinking:
as midnight to the moon is sleep to the beloved.
A thousand fireflies wink at him.
The frogs sound like the string section
of the orchestra warming up.
The stars dangle down like earrings the shape of grapes.

In Honor of an Engagement One Year Ago

It's a rather manic view of life, love and marriage — with more than a few laughs. Do you have a favorite wedding poem? (I have a favorite engagement "poem"!)

Marriage

Should I get married? Should I be good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries
tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
and she going just so far and I understanding why
not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!
Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky -

When she introduces me to her parents
back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie,
should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa
and not ask Where's the bathroom?
How else to feel other than I am,
often thinking Flash Gordon soap -
O how terrible it must be for a young man
seated before a family and the family thinking
We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou!
After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?

Should I tell them? Would they like me then?
Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter
but we're gaining a son -
And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?

O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends
and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded
just wait to get at the drinks and food -
And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated
asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife?
And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue!
I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back
She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha!
And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on -
Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes
Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates!
All streaming into cozy hotels
All going to do the same thing tonight
The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen
The lobby zombies they knowing what
The whistling elevator man he knowing
Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything!
Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye!
Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon!
running rampant into those almost climactic suites
yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel!
O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls
I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner
devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy
a saint of divorce -

But I should get married I should be good
How nice it'd be to come home to her
and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen
aproned young and lovely wanting my baby
and so happy about me she burns the roast beef
and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair
saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf!
God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married!
So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night
and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
When are you going to stop people killing whales!
And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust -

Yet if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow
and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn,
up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me,
finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man
knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup-
O what would that be like!
Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus
For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records
Tack Della Francesca all over its crib
Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib
And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon

No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father
Not rural not snow no quiet window
but hot smelly tight New York City
seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls
a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job!
And five nose running brats in love with Batman
And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired
like those hag masses of the 18th century
all wanting to come in and watch TV
The landlord wants his rent
Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus
impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking -
No! I should not get married! I should never get married!
But - imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman
tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves
holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other
and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window
from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days
No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream -

O but what about love? I forget love
not that I am incapable of love
It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes -
I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother
And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married
And I don't like men and -
But there's got to be somebody!
Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married,
all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!

Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
then marriage would be possible -
Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.

by Gregory Corso

"Anti-Wedding" is Anti-Person

After reading the article about Washington Post writers Caitlin Gibson and Rachel Manteuffel's anti-wedding project, I was sickened. They were just as snobbish as the very industry they ridiculed.

In a video on the Washington Post Web site, these journalists thumbed through bridal magazines citing all of the images of material goods that oppressed women because, they said, the industry made women feel bad when they couldn't afford a $15,000 wedding dress.

Then they criticized those who wanted to do just that.

Go ahead, ladies, make the women feel bad for their decisions — join the Wedding Industry Complex Club.

For the record, not all couples want to spend six months' mortgage on a wedding dress. Some want an event that features lace, fondant and flowers but without the hype.

When David and I married this summer, I didn't flip through a single bridal magazine. I did visit The Knot once, though, to find bridal bouquet ideas for Louise, who was making my bouquet.

I was sniffed at by a snooty dress saleswoman (two months? and how much did you want to spend? Oh, well, we can't accommodate you, but let me show you a $20,000 wedding dress....). By Caitlin and Rachel's measure, I suppose I should have felt bad, but I didn't.

Although David and I didn't play the game, I cannot fault a couple who want all the tulle they can handle or a groom's cake in the shape of an armadillo. If you want to buy a Mercedes instead of a Yugo, go for it. Life is about making the best decisions you can, and this is the first a couple will make together.

However, no matter the make and model of the wedding, I hope the blissful couple remember: it's not about the wedding, but the marriage that follows. If you'd do it in a dreary office of the justice of the peace on a Tuesday afternoon, the only witness a tired secretary borrowed from the DMV next door, then you're marrying the right person.

Crazy-Free, Even a Week and a Half Out

David and I are getting married in a week and a half and everyone is surprised at how calm I am.

Why not? I have the most important things already: David, rings, officiant, friends and cake. Everything else is a bonus.

I say that because I have had the greatest minds at work on this event from the start. Without Carole, I might just now be throwing up my hands and saying, "Exactly what shall I wear?" Without Vicky, a dollop of mascara and a hair clip would be the height of glamor. Without Cheryl, I would be thinking I could make enough tea sandwiches for five dozen people. Without Louise, I'd be flowerless (though Alicia would have swept in to avert a total flower disaster). Without Rachael, I'd have settled for a bakery whose workers thought they were doing me a favor (rather than the other way around). Without Laura, I would have no idea what or how about the hall.

And without David, I would not be getting married.

As you can see, I'm practically just showing up at the event with a pretty dress and a pocket-full of posies.

Oh, rest assured, I have a few worries. I won't be completely calm until Nikki makes it here safe and sound with Cat. (PJ and Valerie are already covered.) I still have to get a final head count (you non-RSVPers know who you are!), David has to finish collecting the music, I have no idea what Jackie will do for the ceremony. I'm sure I forgot something else terribly important. And we haven't quite finished everything for the honeymoon — though, frankly, if all I have to worry about is which Broadway show we will see, life is pretty good. I also worry that dashing off after the reception is going to abandon a few people, but I'm having to work up the guilt, honestly, because we have a wedding night to start!

Frankly, I have David. Life is good. And after the 19th, it will be even better.

Without Poetry — Now What? Nuptials!

I had a nice niche going there last month with poetry, didn't I? Now I have to think of something original. It won't be hard, especially while planning a wedding.

I had a bit of a shock this past weekend while looking for information on local hair salons. I have one I like to use, but the cost of an "up-do" seemed extravagant. So, being the mindful consumer, I decided to see at what prices others were selling their services.

May I say that weddings are a racket?

We could start with the woman at the Snooty Dress Boutique who audibly sniffed when I told her I was marrying in less than two months — and I didn't want to pay for my wedding dress the same amount I spent on my car. As Carole noted, I could pay that much for a dress and, unless the Sniffy Woman is psychic, she doesn't know that. She never will, either.

But then there was the delightful woman at Gossypia who treated me like her favorite client when I just walked in off the street. She literally pulled dress after dress off the rack for an hour, zipping me in and offering suggestions. When I walked out with nothing (only because they didn't have the dress in my size), she told me where I might find it in my limited time frame, even if it wasn't there, then hugged me and wished me the most happiness.

There's good and trying with anything. My favorite cake bakery surprised me by telling me that as I was ordering a cake for a Thursday, I would need to pick it up myself that afternoon. I'll be stopping by there this week to clarify why I need to pick up a cake a block away on one of the least busy wedding days of the year — then, based on that answer, decide if I want the cake or the service.

But then there are the success stories:

• My favorite nail place told me to just try to call the day before I needed my nails done — but if I couldn't do that, they'd still take care of me.
• My caterer is a friend who is personally making sure I get exactly what I want — and at a price that takes the sting out of just about every other financial indignity I've faced so far. She is thinking of all of the things I can't, and I am so thrilled. It really is different when I am on the other side of the aisle, so to speak.
  
• My friend Louise is making most of my floral arrangements, and all I have to do is tell her which flowers.
• My friend Laura oversees Old Town Hall, and she has helped me in every way possible so far — and, I know, will continue to patiently answer my questions. (I just thought of another one!)
  

Once I stop hyperventilating over the cost of, well, everything (hint: do not shop for bathing suits in the midst of wedding planning), I'll call my hair salon and see exactly what the up-do deal is. Vicky said it was the best money she ever spent, having her makeup and hair done. I'm sure she's right.

I just have to remember to pot the plants in the teacups before my manicure — and put myself in the hands of professionals I hope I can trust.