In Which I Say “Fuck” A Lot

Something dark and sinister is happening. Some malevolent forces are conspiring to fuck with my wedding planning and it’s pissing me right the fuck off.

Or…people just don’t reply to e-mails in a timely fashion anymore.

I’ve written countless inquiry e-mails to venues requesting price lists and general information and exactly ONE has gotten back to me. Two if you count Enchanted Forest telling me to fuck off. The other place told me in many more words to fuck off by informing me that it would cost $4,500 to rent their venue and an additional $1,000 for the ceremony space. They could have just said FUCK OFF, BITCH, WE KNOW YOU AIN’T CLASSY ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT!

Sometimes when I’m writing I realize that how it sounds in my head is not how it will sound when someone else reads it and gives it their own inflection. At that point I pause and wonder if I should stop saying “fuck” so much and try to be more eloquent. Then, instead, I write side note paragraphs like this to explain that if you were in my head, my writing would be way funnier to you. Yup. 

There are two places that I really want to hear back from and it’s been four days since I wrote to them. I don’t know if four days is not that long or if it means that yet again I’m being silently told to fuck off.

I write very polite, brief e-mails. I don’t drop the F bomb. I don’t sign them “XO”. I don’t attach a photo of my fiance and I wearing matching sweaters. Why is no one writing me back?

I could call them on the phone but my anxiety level is so high in general that I assume I would be bothering people. Especially when they have a specific event planning e-mail address. So when they don’t answer, my anxiety and paranoia starts growing and I start assuming that it’s personal. That these people looked at my e-mail address, found me on Facebook, judged all my photos and then decided I wasn’t good enough to get married at their loft/bar/house/garden/theme park.

That’s actually how my brain works. I do know that that is not actually happening and that people are busy. But somewhere deep in my self worth issues is me saying, “Nah, they just don’t like YOU.” How fucking dumb is that?

Oh and guess what the average American wedding costs these days? Over $28,000. 

Eloping is sure looking good.

 

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3 thoughts on “In Which I Say “Fuck” A Lot

  1. One of the lessons I learned from our wedding: get some Ativan.
    I didn’t, and I stressed the fuck out about everything…then right before we left for our honeymoon I got some. (I hated flying and having such a high anxiety threshold made flying sound like a waking nightmare)

    The best flight and first few days EVER.

    If you hit a doc up and simply say “look I have anxiety and I’m trying to plan a wedding”. I’m pretty sure you’ll be sent home happy.

    I know the wedding sort of “should” be stressful, but don’t let it ruin your life until the actual ceremony. Anxiety is some cold, fucked up shit. Ain’t no problem with planning something so important while ALSO being able to take the edge off.

    p.s. I have some wicked GAD.

  2. “This isn’t fun anymore. I want to get off this ride” – Quote ME, Saturday Evening after a day filled with work and running around and listening to my mom complain about how people are not rsvp’ing fast enough to my bridal shower (which is a surprise but she keeps dropping hints about). We bought pizza and got into comfy clothes and sat on our couch and watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall during commercial breaks of the Notre Dame game. This whole process sucks…as someone who IS spending the $28K on a damn single day of my life, I wish we could have that money and take a quick trip to a tropical island and get married and be done. $8k outside of New York should be doable. Also…the email thing, people in this business are bitches. They will go days without responding to shit, oh and since they get paid ridiculous amounts of money they go on vacation – a LOT it seems. 4 days isn’t a lot of time, at the one-week marker, send a follow up, then call. I had a photographer whose style I fell in love with, we emailed for two weeks on a daily basis and then she disappeared. Legitimately breaking my photograph loving heart. I ended up finding someone even better that I love even more…it’ll come together. Have faith, and don’t spend the money if you don’t want to!

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