#every word of this is 100% true and unexaggerated

[aritany]

I want to hear a wedding story! (Only if u want to share ofc)

GOODNESS.

where to begin. notably, the funniest part of this story is the wedding night (no, not in the way you're thinking), so stick around for that.

previous context is the divorce story, which is significantly less funny, but it does talk about boobs, so, you know.

buckle up, folks.

okay pov you're me. you're 19. your now-fiancé just proposed to you in Front Of Your Mother, with whom you have a notably Contentious Relationship. you do not take this for the red flag that it is. instead, you start planning a wedding.

also, you're in university, because you're 19, and you're taking seven courses and your now-fiancé Wants To Fuck, (as many young christian men do, also because you, as previously mentioned in divorce story, have excellent tits) so this wedding is happening in 6 months.

weddings are very expensive. notably. you, being practical, and also very nearly friendless, are keen on a <30 person event. close friends and family only. your now-fiancé, on the other hand, knows Probably All Eight Billion People On The Planet, and so if it were not for budgetary reasons, would very much like to hold a 300+ person shebang. fortunately, budgets. 130 people on the guest list, all of a sudden. you mourn your intimate wedding dream privately.

as a rule, wedding planning is very stressful, but fortunately, your now-fiancé is an Exceptional Event Planner, so he's very eager to take over on the planning, including (and this is important), wedding night accommodations.

you realize very quickly into the planning process that this wedding is exceptionally transparently a way for your mother (youngest girl of 5) to show off to her siblings (all wealthy, she married a musician, life's rough, perhaps chill out, arlene) and as such, Choices Are Being Made. you are very nervously trying to not butt heads with her, considering the aforementioned Contentious Relationship, and previous experience/fear for your life expectancy.

believe it or not, your mother marrying a musician was an important point, because they popped out several musician babies to form the Von Trapp Family Nightmare of their dreams, and as such, your mother reminds you, there are expectations in place! people are practically coming to the wedding for the music! she tells you and then gets very huffy and insists it's a joke. you let her hire a guitarist for the prelude, because, whatever.

it is possible, due to your as-yet-undiscovered autismal nature, that you are not doing as well as you might think you are at disguising that you're not all that pleased, but overall you stuff it down. compromise is a part of life, whatever. more on this later.

the wedding day approacheth. you throw a bachelorette party with 5 people including your 15 year old sibling, because you are very cool with lots of friends. you get very smashed. mother is not pleased, due to the presence of said sibling, which is perhaps her only valid moment in this story. sorry, noa.

the night before the wedding is where things get a little bit spicy. because of the Contentious Relationship, you can smell a storm coming from a mile away, but all you know for sure is that your mother is Not Pleased With You, which is very stressful until about eleven pm, when your father elects to pull you aside to Have A Chat.

in said Chat, he tells you that you could really do a lot more to make your mother feel more special during the following day. you say, father? on my wedding day? he, also autismal, also afraid of your mother, says, you heard me. you ponder this, and then end up explaining awkwardly and painstakingly why you will not be doing this, due to the Contentious Relationship, Also, Abuse. your father, now sitting with the brand-new information that his wife Sucks, Like, Severely, doubles down.

through the balcony window, your mother sees you Having A Chat. assumedly, she feels very left out. you smell danger so you go inside to mitigate. she understands that she is the topic of discussion, and, i shit you not, throws everything she's holding onto the floor and marches out of the room.

you do not see her until forty-five seconds before the ceremony. instead, you go to your room, and you cry so hard you give yourself a nosebleed, and you sleep for about three hours.

wedding's a bit of a blur. mostly you remember eating bread in a golf cart after the ceremony, and that during the reception, your dress was so uncomfortable that it overshadowed almost everything else. also, you and your dad (who does not dance) choreographed a whole 5 minute deal to one of your favourite songs for your father-daughter dance and now you can't hear it without feeling like you're going to throw up, due to the bigotry.

NOW.

let's get to the juice.

you are ready to leave about .3 seconds into the reception, but it's sort of the whole deal that this is The Party that you're supposed to really stick around for, like, the whole time. so you are VERY brave. you dance like nobody's watching, or whatever. (you dance like everybody you know and respect is watching, because they are.)

eventually, you get to leave this party. you drive away in your car together, and you're very newly married, which is, naturally, very exciting.

now, earlier, i said we'd revisit compromise. here's where that's going to happen. see, when you're planning a wedding, you have to be very careful about the budget. your fiancé-turned-husband also happens to be very frugal, a quality that is frequently very useful, however.

However.

apparently, the budget didn't extend to a very nice wedding night. and, like, you're you. you're honestly just very relieved to not be financially and emotionally dependent on your mother, for aforementioned and i hope deeply obvious reasons. you do not have high expectations. you're not expectation champagne, or anything.

however, you're also not expecting to pull up to a comfort inn in the industrial area of downtown, an institution so fine that it is now Permanently Closed. you, in your terribly uncomfortable wedding dress, traipse into reception, where the receptionist proceeds to stay on the phone for 45 minutes.

eventually, she gives you your room key and tells you that your room is in the annex.

the annex, you think. that could be nice. maybe that's a special building. and it is. oh, it is special. you lug yourself and your suitcases across the parking lot to the annex, a grey building with grey windows that looks a little bit like a hidey-hole for a serial killer. you open the door.

inside, a double bed. it is concave. in the corner, a dog bed.

you realize very abruptly that for you, on your wedding night, with intention of Consummation™, YOUR FRESH HUSBAND HAS BOOKED FOR YOU THE ROOM THAT THEY GIVE YOU WHEN YOU SAY YOU'RE TRAVELING WITH A DOG.

/fin.