by Amber Gaye

Created on: March 08, 2009

My wedding was a bit like my six year marriage, a disaster. What I remember most are tears, anger, and embarrassment. You may be thinking I must have been a "bridezilla", but nothing would be further from the truth. I believed then, as I do today, that a wedding should be simple and small, an intimate and enjoyable experience. That's how my wedding started out...before all the yelling and tears.

I admit, my reason for marriage was less than traditional. My Stepfather didn't like my boyfriend, and especially hated the fact that we planned to live together in "sin". I remember his words, "He's getting his milk for free, why buy the cow...he'd never marry you."

My response? "Oh yeah? Watch this."

Not a very mature response, I admit, but my Stepfather seemed to have that effect on me. All rationality was swept out to sea and my course was set. Once my eyes found a point on the horizon, nothing could ever stop me from reaching it...not even that voice in my head screaming "AVAST!"

Thirty days later I arrived at the church for my wedding. The date was June 30th, and it was hot, just over 90 degrees in the shade. We had planned an extremely small and simple wedding, booking the church's chapel with room to seat two dozen people comfortably. This would be plenty of room since we had only invited our parents and siblings, and a few of our closest friends.

The first sign of immanent disaster was when we discovered that the church's air conditioning system was broken. The chapel was stifling. Within moments of entering the small inner room, rivulets of sweat cascaded from every pore. Perhaps this caused tempers as well as temperatures to flare.

The situation was made even more unbearable when I realized that my soon to be In-Laws had invited everyone they knew without telling me! Suddenly, plenty of room turned to no room whatsoever. People were packed into the chapel shoulder to sweaty shoulder, with no room to sit, let alone breathe.

My future Mother-in-Law blithely informed me that it was only natural that she invite everyone of her acquaintance to see her "baby" get married, and that she just assumed I knew. This of course, led to a fiery exchange just outside the chapel doors.

My anger was still inflamed as I walked down the aisle holding my heat wilted single white rose. The Best Man glared at me from piggy, sweat blurred eyes. The Pastor nearly fainted from the heat, and the guests grumbled in their sweat lubricated delirium. Somehow though, we made it through the service.

The

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