Duh... it was the day I got married. Today would have been our eight year anniversary. What a crazy thought. Eight years ago on this very day, I was standing in line at the Clark County Courthouse Marriage Office in Las Vegas with twenty other nervous couples. The paperwork was nothing. I would take longer filling out an application at McDonald's.
Eight years ago today, I was being swept away in a white limo to be married at a fine establishment called The Chapel of Love. I was wearing a purple sun dress and black sandals. But... hey... it's Vegas, baby.
Classy, isn't it?
Eight years ago, I was having a nervous breakdown in the bathroom of The Chapel of Love, ten minutes prior to the ceremony. I knew it wasn't a good idea. I wanted to run but I tried to convince myself that part of being an adult was to honor your commitments. I was afraid of letting everyone down. After I got divorced, I told my mom about that bathroom breakdown. She told me that her and dad would have grabbed me and walked out; then spent the rest of our time in Vegas partying.
Eight years ago, I was being escorted down the aisle by my father, who was trying so hard to choke back his tears. The ceremony was a blur to me. All I remember is that the guy performing it had a disfigured nose. I stared at it the whole time.
Eight years ago, I kissed Todd and was declared his wife. We were two stupid kids smiling at each other; having no clue what we just did. Love was a word we kicked around a bunch but the two of us never stopped to think about what it really meant. We were convinced that spontaneity and passion were essential building blocks for a long lasting relationship.
Eight years ago, I took the biggest gamble you can in Vegas. I used to swear that Vegas weddings were cursed. It was just too damn easy for couples drunk on love/lust/whiskey to jump in without thinking. Vegas isn't to blame. It may be a city for fools but it is (to steal a line from The King) the fools that rush in.
Eight years ago, I was being escorted down the aisle by my father, who was trying so hard to choke back his tears. The ceremony was a blur to me. All I remember is that the guy performing it had a disfigured nose. I stared at it the whole time.
Eight years ago, I kissed Todd and was declared his wife. We were two stupid kids smiling at each other; having no clue what we just did. Love was a word we kicked around a bunch but the two of us never stopped to think about what it really meant. We were convinced that spontaneity and passion were essential building blocks for a long lasting relationship.
Eight years ago, I took the biggest gamble you can in Vegas. I used to swear that Vegas weddings were cursed. It was just too damn easy for couples drunk on love/lust/whiskey to jump in without thinking. Vegas isn't to blame. It may be a city for fools but it is (to steal a line from The King) the fools that rush in.
