My mother used to say, “If you kiss someone and your knees don’t wobble, it was never meant to be.” I always got a kick out of that piece of advice because it was simple and invoked this idea that you wouldn’t have to figure out you were in love—you’d just know it. Being a guy, I’ve always preferred the obvious, so this little quote made a pretty easy mantra for my love life. Little did I know that meeting my fiancée, Kristin, would induce the type of wobble that flips cars over.
We met at work. In fact, we shared a wall at work. Kristin occupied the office next to mine for about a year and ignored me for a large part of that. After numerous failed “So what are you up to this weekend?” conversation starters, Kristin sauntered into my office one afternoon upon hearing I’d just been in New Hampshire working on Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign. It turned out that she had been a women’s-studies major and was sweet on the idea of a guy who supported Hillary. Little did she know what she had just jumped into was going to last longer than the campaign.
Initially bound by our affection for a great woman making her historic run for the presidency, after a few months we realized that being together promised a type of hope and change that we could both get behind. We dated for about 11 months before moving in together this past May, and on July 21 I popped the question right near our place, by the tennis courts in Adams Morgan (which is where we had shared our first kiss). It was a simple, meaningful, and romantic proposal, which I figured would set the template for how we would plan the wedding.
Any assumptions I had that the proposal had to be a surprise were quickly put to rest, because wedding planning began on July 22. And since then it has been a fast and furious run to the alter. Because both of us actually want to get married more than we want to spend time planning for the big day (we both have friends who were engaged for 18 months or more, which meant wedding planning that whole time), we decided we wanted to get married Memorial Day weekend if we could find an available place. And by “available,” we meant we were looking for a classic DC locale that spoke of the history of the city and would provide some of the District’s personality. No small feat.
Fueled by the fear that a spring ’10 wedding date might be an aggressive choice and would mean we might have to compromise on things we wanted, we have set off on a mad dash to nail down the key elements for any good party: a date, a venue (which can cover food and booze for us), and a band. Wish us luck!