A Wedding Story

It’s probably a little unusual, but when I was growing up I never really thought about getting or being married. The closest I got is that I figured somewhere in my early 30s I would get married to some sort of professional guy who had dark hair and dark eyes (aside from a few brief exceptions, that was definitely my type).

So imagine my surprise when at the barely pretending to be an adult age of 22, I met the man I wanted to grow up and grow old with.

Rob and I had our first date on his 24th birthday. The story of how that came to be is a good one. Perhaps I’ll tell it in a few years. Suffice it to say, we clicked right away and I was falling fast in love before the entrées arrived.

We were dating long-distance (about 400 miles separated us), but it wasn’t long before our phone conversations were not about if we were going to get married but when.

About 4 months later, Rob proposed. I was sitting on my bed at my parents’ house, busily tying my shoes, when Rob interrupted me and said he had a question for me. Expecting it to be something along the lines of where I wanted to have lunch, I was jaw-droppingly surprised when I saw Rob on his knee with a sparkly ring in a velvet box. I didn’t hesitate with my answer. And I suddenly understood why my mom had had that goofy grin on her face that morning.

Newly engaged.  Holy cow we were young...

Fast forward another 4 months. Rob had moved up to the San Francisco Bay Area from Los Angeles to be with me. We both had busy, professional jobs, and very few decisions about a wedding had yet been made.

Sure, we talked about it. But neither of us had any pre-conceived notions about what Our Wedding should be. I had never daydreamed about walking down an aisle or what my wedding dress would look like or what song would play for the father-daughter dance. When it came to my wedding day, my mind was a complete blank. Rob figured people would be there, and his future wife would walk towards him in a white dress, but that’s all he had to offer to the planning. So our discussions were a bit aimless.

Trying to nail down something…anything…I came to a few conclusions.

First, reflecting every bit of my screaming liberal arts education, I was NOT going to be walked down an aisle and given away like property. Nope, I would walk down the aisle by myself like the self-sufficient, independent, utterly capable woman I was. Take THAT, antiquated and misguided tradition.

Second, I look better in black than in white, so I decided a black wedding dress would be cool. Surely such a thing existed, right?

Third, I wasn’t sure who all I wanted standing by me during the ceremony but I was certain one of them had to be my very best friend from college. I hoped Zeke would accept and enjoy being my “Man of Honor.” And I was determined that Rob’s very conservative family would just have to deal with a gay man being their new daughter-in-law’s primary wedding attendant.

Yes, I was going to announce my entrance into Rob's family with gusto.

And that’s as far as I got. No date, no venue, no color scheme, no theme, no gift registry. And honestly no time to think about those things because my job in a political consulting firm in an election year was nothing short of insane. If I wasn’t stumbling into bed as soon as I got home from work, I was busy sobbing out tears of frustration and stress. Deciding what color napkins to have and what to engrave on them was beyond my capacity and interest.

Then the day I had been fantasizing about finally arrived: Election Day!

Yes, Election Day. Everything in my politically-based job hinged on November 6, 1990. As soon as that glorious day arrived, my life would return to normal. I could work only 50-60 hours per week and might even have time for fun on the weekends. And then…then…I could start seriously planning our wedding.

So that next weekend, Rob and I discussed our Big Day. And as we chatted, I realized that the few decisions I had made were really more about making some sort of political, cultural statement and being in-your-face different than it was about joining lives with my soulmate. The more we talked, the more I realized I just wanted to be married. The ceremony and celebration to get there didn’t really matter as much.

We looked at the calendar. We had both already arranged to take Monday, December 3 off because we were planning to go to Los Angeles to see the very last car race at the Ascot Raceway Park before it closed forever.

“Instead of going to the car race, we could get married,” Rob offered. More romantic words have never been spoken.

With only three weeks, we got busy making arrangements.

It helped that my mom was a legal secretary and knew judges. Our venue was quickly determined to be the Superior Courthouse in San Francisco with an acquaintance presiding.

My parents would be there as would Rob’s dad, stepmom, and his oldest younger brother. Besides the judge and the bailiff, that was the full extent of our wedding party.

No music, our own cameras for photos, and just one bouquet of some beautiful Fire and Ice roses. And no napkins.

Rob needed a new suit so he got one that doubled as his wedding outfit. My mom and I headed to the mall one evening and in the back of a store we found a cream-colored skirt, jacket, and veiled hat that fit me perfectly. Having spent countless agonizing hours in dressing rooms during my childhood, almost in tears because nothing ever fit, my mom and I immediately felt the Universe was endorsing my marriage with that fit-off-the-rack wedding suit.

Rob and I went to a jewelry store in a different mall and picked out a set of simple gold bands that happened to already be the perfect sizes. More approval from the Universe.

And so the morning arrived. Monday, December 3, 1990. Almost exactly nine months after our first date.

We all convened at the courthouse. I was dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with full make-up and carrying a garment bag. Everyone else was dressed up and Mom was carrying my bouquet in a box.

We didn’t get very far; first we had to go through a metal detector. Because, well, the county jail was in the basement of the building. Don't most weddings involve a metal detector? No?

As the entourage lined up for the weapons screening, people congratulated me as it was obvious I was The Bride.

“Are you marrying someone in jail?” several asked.

“No, I’m marrying him,” I clarified through laughter as I pointed at Rob.

It was funny...the first time.

By the fourth or fifth time I was asked if I was marrying a jail bird, my mom’s mother bear instincts were in full gear and she very clearly made it known that her daughter was NOT marrying a criminal thankyouverymuch. She was adorably feisty.

I changed clothes in a yellow tiled public restroom down the hall from the court room. Not quite the standard Bridal Suite.

When I was ready, I emerged with perhaps a bit less the pomp and circumstance than when a groom typically first sees his bride. We all then stood around and waited for the judge to arrive.

My grand entrance

When he finally greeted us, I told the judge that Rob and I had a last-minute change. You see, initially Rob and I thought it would be fun to get married in the courtroom. I was going to be the plaintiff, he was going to be the defendant, and our family would sit in judgment in the jury box. We thought it would be hysterical!

But, well, my future mother-in-law spoke some very wise words to me the night before and convinced me otherwise. Rob agreed and so we instead asked to have the ceremony in the judge’s chambers.

Funny, right?  Yeah, my soon-to-be mother-in-law wasn't laughing.
And she was right.  Thank you again, Nancy!

A little bit of scrambling and nine of us were cozily in the judge’s office. Nervous but excited, Rob and I held hands as we recited the slightly edited vows we had agreed on (yeah, no obeying going on in this marriage!).

Right in the midst of us dedicating our lives to each other, the phone rang. In all the last-minute changeroos, the judge forgot to have his calls held. The bailiff quickly answered the phone and took a message. Now we know why we invited him to the wedding!

It’s amazing in subsequent years how many vows we have claimed the other agreed to at that moment. “What, don’t you remember that you said you would go to the County Fair with me every single day? Hmmm, it must have been when the phone rang.”

A few short minutes and signatures later and we were official. GO MARRIED US!

With big smiles, a marriage certificate, and a fluttering veil, we exited the courthouse. Our first official congratulations by a stranger was a very nice homeless guy camping outside the door. Looking back, I am especially impressed by my father-in-law’s amused composure at that moment. I am quite sure that was NOT what he envisioned for his oldest child’s wedding day.

Homeless guy just out of camera range

Instead of a reception, we all headed to lunch at the restaurant Rob and I went to our on first date. Ribs for a wedding lunch? Yes please!

I had a blast walking from the parking garage to the restaurant. It was lunchtime on a Monday in the business district of San Francisco. People were smiling and congratulating us the entire route. It wasn’t quite walking down an aisle but it was a hoot. I felt very loved and encouraged even though they were all strangers.

Rob’s most vivid memory of that walk was coming across a dead pigeon near where we stopped to pose for pictures. It was a rather bloated bird and we tried to make sure it didn’t appear in any photos. Again, so impressed by my father-in-law!

After lunch, we all said goodbye and then Rob drove me to our surprise honeymoon location: Yosemite. I got to see it for the very first time by moonlight on a clear full-moon night, with fresh snow on the ground. It was magical.

My boss’s wedding gift to us was an extra day off so we spent one night in Yosemite and explored the valley the next morning before heading home. Although we took a much longer and more involved trip about six months later that we said would be our official honeymoon, it never was. The one night in Yosemite was and will always be our honeymoon.

Over the past 25 years, I have often thought of our unconventional little wedding and pondered if I have any regrets. Both Rob and I agree that the only regret we ever have is that we didn’t have more people there to celebrate with us and share our most important moment. But we had the most critical people there and we most definitely had a wedding that reflected us: simple, meaningful, full of togetherness and laughter, and a touch quirky. Just the right recipe for our marriage, too.