I am going to be a bride. I repeat this to myself about 30 times a day. I always knew that Andrew and I would be together in the end, but the reality of the ring on my left hand still shocks me every day. I’ve been mentally preparing for my wedding since I was four years old, and now’s the time to start making my fantasies come true . . . so where exactly do I start?

Andrew and I met almost five years ago, at a fraternity party back in college in New England. We went to different schools, but I was instantly hooked on his adorable smile and his shy yet confident nature. So I dismissed my rule of banning long-distance relationships. After eight months, we graduated from college and moved in together in my hometown of Alexandria, ready to start our adult life together.

It wasn’t sunshine and lollipops at first—going from a long-distance relationship to living together proved to be quite an adjustment. I had grown up as an only child and simply wasn’t used to sharing my space or my life. But time passed and the adjustments turned into a happy life for both of us. He was successful and content as an engineer contracting for the Navy, and I had found my niche working in event planning and volunteering with the Lost Dog and Cat Rescue Foundation.

As months turned into years, family members and friends began questioning when he would pop the question, and truthfully so did I (but of course, not aloud to him). We bought a condominium together and had two dogs and two cats, so I began thinking: When is it going to happen? Then on May 16, 2008, it did.

Annapolis beats Vegas and a cruise for a top honeymoon spot.

Ensure a smooth ride: Get a head count and give the driver a map.

Here's one for the wedding bookshelf. [via Bridalwave]

A funeral home as a wedding venue? We're glad we weren't on the guest list for that one.

Have bridal news to share? E-mail lshallcross@washingtonian.com.

Photo by Jennifer Smoose

“Meet me on the corner of Seventh Street and New York Avenue at 7:30,” Aidan O’Connor told Connie Dougherty just after Christmas last year.

That’s odd, Connie thought. She knew they were seeing a play that night, but she couldn’t think of what theater was around there.

When she arrived, Aidan led her half a block before he stopped in front of a tiny venue called the Warehouse. They walked into the near-empty lobby and waited. Where is everyone? Connie wondered.

Fifteen minutes later, a man came around the corner. “We’re ready,” he said, leading them into the theater.

When he drew back the curtain, Connie saw a stage, a sound guy, a camera guy—and two seats.

“I was so confused,” says Connie, who works as a legislative director for a congressman. “We hadn’t exchanged Christmas presents, so I thought maybe he had gotten us some private viewing of a play.”

Some propose over a candlelit dinner, some ramp it up to baseball games. Others go, well, bigger. (Think Google.)

Wedding etiquette, updated: no "and guest," and don't forget to tip the priest.

Want to get the dirt on flowers? Here's a site for you. [via bon mariage!]

Too many hoops to jump through when it comes to a DC marriage license? [via DC Nearlyweds]

Have bridal news to share? E-mail lshallcross@washingtonian.com.

I have to apologize in advance to Georgetown Bride, who commented on one of my previous postings to warn me about the less-than-stellar service at Hannelore’s in Alexandria. This was not the first negative feedback I had heard regarding the salon. I was going to cancel the appointment I had scheduled there, but I didn’t for two reasons. First, the salon is huge and carries a ton of dresses I hadn’t seen yet (Christos, Romona Keveza), and second, snooty places kind of amuse me.

The appointment was a couple of weeks ago. My maid of honor, Deborah, was in town from New York, and my nouna (that’s Greek for godmother”) was in town from Chicago. So Deb, Annie, Jillian, and I met my mom and Nouna at Hannelore’s on a Saturday afternoon. I arrived a bit early with the girls, so we headed in to peruse the dresses.

Our saleswoman (let’s call her Kim) was nice upon first introduction and began to escort us up the spiral staircase to where the wedding dresses live. On our way up, Kim noticed that a few of us were carrying Poland Spring water bottles. Big problem. We were instructed that we could not drink the water near the dresses. The four of us darted looks at one another and put the water in our bags.

Have a garage sale, buy a prom dress, and other ideas for thinking wedding thrifty.

It's not so bad to be a bridesmaid after all.

Do bands love line dances and DJs always save you money? Answers to the wedding music myths.

Honeymoon help: Try a travel agent and use credit card reward points.

Have bridal news to share? E-mail lshallcross@washingtonian.com.

It was one day after Heather Russell, 26, had graduated from Boston University. She’d packed up her things and driven seven hours back home to Anne Arundel County, where she grew up. She and her best friend weren’t set to move into their new place in Georgetown until the next day, so they decided to head to a friend’s graduation party at Pusser’s Caribbean Grille on the Annapolis waterfront, where Heather had worked one summer during college.

Ryan Muety, 29, and his twin brothers decided to head to Pusser’s that night as well. He’d worked there one summer, too, but not the same one as Heather. Ryan, a director for an Italian sporting company, spotted Heather in the bar that night, thought she was beautiful, and worked up the courage to talk to her. He asked Heather what she was drinking—a Painkiller-tini, a Pusser’s specialty. He asked if he could buy her one. She politely declined. But Ryan didn’t give up there.

“Later on, he came over to my table of girlfriends, pulled me aside, and asked to take me to dinner,” says Heather, a marketing manager. “I tried to play it coy, but I thought that he was the most handsome guy ever and he seemed genuine, so I gave in—with the encouragement of my best friend—and gave him my number.”

Ryan stuck to the “standard three-day rule,” Heather says, and called her the following Wednesday. Heather invited him to come to a barbecue she and her roommates were hosting. When she told her friends the guy from the bar would be coming over, they pegged him as just a summer boyfriend. “I remember my roommates blaring the song “Boys of Summer” when he first arrived—I was so embarrassed,” Heather says. After hanging out at the barbecue and taking a walk down to the Georgetown waterfront, Heather says, they just “clicked.” When the date wrapped up and Heather was back at home with her best friend, Heather told her she’d found the one. Her friend told her she was “in love with being in love,” Heather says. “Which is true. I have always believed in love—but I also have great instinct and I just knew he was the man for me.”