Hitched

As I mentioned in last week’s meme dump, Sweetpea and I got married last week on a beach in Florida. We met in January of 2017, got engaged in May of 2018, moved in together in July of 2018, and now here we are, a married couple.

So if you’ll indulge me a bit, I’ll take a break from my usual political material and talk about our experiences last week.

So far, the best thing about being married is that I no longer have to dither about what to call her: fiancé, fiancée, financier… girlfriend, lady-friend, life-partner or whatever. Now it’s just “wife.”

“This is my wife, Sweetpea.”

“Have you seen my wife?”

“I’m just waiting for my wife.” (Usually spoken outside a restroom door.)

One night last weekend, I started giggling, out of the blue. She inquired why. I told her, as I was contemplating having a wife, that I suddenly recalled a verse we guys used to repeat as teenagers:

“I love my wife, for all my life

Especially in her nightie.

‘Cuz when the moonlight flits, across her tits,

Oh Jesus Christ Almighty!”

(We were not a really a group of deep thinkers as boys.)

All along, we wanted a simple wedding ceremony, just 10 minutes on the beach, and out. A guerilla wedding, if you will. We didn’t want a big crowd either, just her parents and mine. This was all her idea and I was fine with it. It’s what she wanted even though it was her first wedding.

I figured I’ve already had my big wedding to-do. If she wanted hers, I’d be game, but I certainly wasn’t against saving 10-grand and doing it quick and easy on a beach.

Because my folks live on the Florida panhandle, we’d have a place to stay and some foot-soldiers on the ground to help us if need be. So we spent the last year or so putting our plans into motion. Minimalist as they were, we’d still need plane tickets, a hotel, a marriage license, a church official and a place to do the deed.

It’s pretty easy to put that stuff together in this day and age. I found a reverend online who would do any kind of service we wanted, wherever we wanted. Last year when we went to visit my parents, we scouted out an isolated place on the beach, out past where all the hotels and condos were.

We flew down on Saturday, to spend the first couple days with my folks. Dad had all his good pool toys out for us:

Two margaritas, a giant Froot Loop, and Turd Ferguson.

We got our marriage license on Monday, three days before the wedding. Because we were from out of state, we didn’t have to wait the mandatory three days that the natives do, but we would be prepared either way.

Wednesday night, we checked into a Hilton hotel that Dad had arranged for us, right on the beach, and it was freakin’ gorgeous.

The view from our balcony.

They had a nice pool on the grounds, a kiddie pool, a bar, and access to the beach. We used all of it,  believe me! (Well, maybe not the kiddie pool.)

Sweetpea and I spend quite a while trying to determine if the art in our room was supposed to be anything in particular or just an abstract blot.

I see a pissed off goat with smoke horns. Sweetpea saw land surrounded by water. You armchair psychologists can make of that what you will.

Her parents came out to the hotel that night, met my parents and we all had a nice introductory dinner.

Thursday was the Big Day. Wedding at 9:00 AM.

All weddings have at least one crisis, and we got off lucky, but not scot-free. Our little bump was when Sweetpea tried on the floral headpiece we bought for around $60. She was anticipating a few simple interwoven sprigs of baby’s breath. When she tried it on, it was bulkier; more like a crown, which when combined with her simple white summer dress, made her look like she was heading to a Delta House toga party.

We worked on slimming it down by pulling off some of the buds, but it was what it was. I didn’t really want to abandon it; hell it cost more than all of our wedding outfits combined! For what it’s worth, I thought she looked gorgeous in it.

Reverend Michelle picked us up and took us down to our beach spot, where all the parents were waiting for us. We rolled onto the beach, went through the service, exchanged vows and rings, kissed the bride, and were done in no more than five or six minutes. Even after posing for pictures, we were still off the beach within 10 minutes, just like we planned.

There were maybe two other people on the beach aside from us. I don’t think they even noticed what we were doing.

We returned to the hotel for breakfast and then the parents departed. We’d have our honeymoon at the hotel until we left for home on Sunday.

We noticed, on Saturday, that another wedding was taking place on the beach, but right there at the hotel. We could see the whole thing from our balcony.

Someone else’s wedding.

No offense to this couple, but this was everything we wanted to avoid… a big affair right out in front of everyone. You can see other people walking around, or watching the proceedings, or just going for a swim in the background. I did NOT want to be a sideshow; that’s why we wanted to get away from the hotels and condos.

As for the rest of our weekend, it was glorious. We’d go to the beach in the morning,

…shower off, go out to lunch, hit the pool in the afternoon, have drinks and go out to dinner. It was like, “Hey, marriage is easy!”

Of course, there’s also that expression, “The honeymoon’s over…”

Worst part of our time there, (aside from feeling like a walrus from all the awesome meals we had), was my learning that when you spend too much time in a bathing suit, it can start to chafe the old undercarriage. It felt like the lining of my trunks was erasing my t’aint. Next thing you know, I’m walking around like I just got off a horse.

The weather was glorious all week, up until Saturday. Luckily we were out on the beach early but got to watch this ominous storm roll in before we got outta Dodge.

It looks like the alien ships are coming, yet everyone else is like, “Meh. I paid for this chair and umbrella for another two hours; I ain’t leavin’.”

It was kind of a gradual thing. One minute it’s reasonably sunny, the next, the cows are flying by.

A panorama shot of it going from nice to not-so-nice in one look.

All weekend long, we just kept talking about how amazing it was that we are now married. (Or as I put it, “You’re stuck with my ass now; there’s a strict no-returns policy in my family.”

I have confidence, though, that this one will stick because I learned something recently. This is my second marriage and it was on the 27^th. My sister’s second and current 18-year marriage was on the 27^th. My brother’s first and only marriage (of 29 years) was on the 27^th. So obviously, my family just has to get married on the 27^th of the month and it will last forever!

I don’t believe we all have “that one soulmate,” or in divine intervention, but I’m with the person I’m supposed to be with. She’s the best woman I’ve ever met, or at least the best for me. If I can’t make it work with Sweetpea, I might as well just be a hermit, go off to live in a hole, and eat juniper berries.

Future Bluz, if he doesn’t act right.

It’s on me now to be the husband my baby deserves and be worthy of her love.

Thank you for loving me, Sweetpea. I love you.

Obligatory Rings Shot

Next week, I’ll be back to ranting about politics and discussing the things I missed last week.