But not without regrets. Luckily, though, said regrets aren’t about the marriage, but the length of our honeymoon. While we know it can’t last forever, I highly recommend a three-week minimum. While 10 days seemed like a lot when we booked our flights, once you subtract two days of international travel, a few more hours for time readjustment and even more hours planning our trip on the fly (another piece of advice is to plan where you’ll be staying every night ahead of time), suddenly all those luxurious days off are dwindled down to what seemed like just a long weekend.
Obviously, this isn’t the worst problem to have, but in the realm of “First World Problems,” it’s a recipe for disaster… OK, that’s an exaggeration, too. The honeymoon was pretty much the opposite of a disaster, but going back to daily life after being stressed to the point where you’re actually now thinking Botox isn’t the worst idea ever (stress makes crazy wrinkles, ya’ll) feels pretty shitty.
Alas, such is life! Pretty shitty! (Hey, you don’t direct your browser to this blog for the optimism.)
Speaking of shitty… the bills. I am so embarrassed, but obligated to report that we went WAAAAAAAYYYYYY over budget. (Goddamn wedding dollars…) And this is considering we allotted ourselves a budget of $25,000—twenty fucking five thousand fucking dollars—and we couldn’t stay within that budget. (Although, I guess, it could’ve been worse…) The biggest bite (and you’ll get that pun now) was our catering budget, which clocked in at around $15,000. I don’t even have the exact number because that’s how organized we apparently were. I guess having an Excel spreadsheet isn’t really a useful unless you actually use it…
Yes, future bitches getting married (and I mean that lovingly and in a non-gendery kinda way), don’t rely on a broken abacus your cat dragged out of a former-Soviet elementary school dumpster to keep track of your funds. More importantly, make sure you and the person you’re planning to wed constantly communicate about who is dropping what on whatever, when, where and why. Because after the wedding, when you turn to your new spouse and say, “I can’t believe we pulled that off on our budget!” and he or she returns with, “Um… is this your first time reading numbers?” it’s kind of a buzzkill.
That said, at least the wedding is over, which means I can go back to worrying about more important things, like, how to get out of crippling debt after having a fucking ridiculously expensive wedding…
And thank you notes. Those are also very important.
But first, more pictures to remind us this was the best day ever, courtesy of our photographer extraordinaire, Dakota Fine of Dakota Fine Photography, whom I highly endorse and recommend.
Goal accomplished: I felt comfortable and could walk in both my dress and shoes.
Goal accomplished: we had a great guest list and a damn near perfect venue for our aesthetic.
Goal accomplished: the only place, it seems, we saved money were the centerpieces, which consisted of 99¢ Goodwill vases and Whole Foods flowers purchased the day before.
Goal accomplished (although this one wasn’t hard to achieve): my mom looked awesome.
Goal accomplished: my cute-as-hell nephew almost stole the show.
Goal accomplished: GOT MARRIED!
Goal accomplished: we recited heartwarming, personal vows that made people happy, including both of us. (I will publish the vows in a future post.)
Goal accomplished: I surprisingly held my shit together that day.
Goal accomplished: THIS PHOTO.
Goal accomplished: first look captured!
Goal accomplished: I guess our first dance felt more awkward than it looked (THANK GOD).
Goal accomplished: our music mixer for the night, DJ G (another one I highly recommend), kept the dance floor bumpin’.
Goal accomplished: dope pictures on the carousel!
Goal accomplished: I made the boutonnieres. *high-fives self*
Goal accomplished: I also made the motherfucking bouquet. *nods with lots of smugness*
Goal accomplished: I have a favorite photo.
Goal accomplished: I have another favorite photo.
Goal accomplished: I have lots of favorite photos.