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The Last Hurrah

Last week was The Fiancé’s rite-of-passage dudefest commonly known as the Vegas bachelor party. Before his trip, I laid down one simple rule: No touching strippers in inappropriate places. That’s it. One rule. I didn’t ask him not to go to strip clubs; I didn’t remind him not to gamble away our life savings (he knows better). But maybe there should have been two simple rules. On our first weekend apart since getting engaged, it might have been nice for…

The Accidental Bridezilla

The invitations went out last week, and suddenly everyone seems to have entered panic mode. The Fiancé, who typically keeps his cool under even the most strenuous circumstances, had to take a walk last Monday after I mentioned that some of our guests had already received their invites. It seems our pending nuptials are making even him a little nervous…

Showers are the New Sweet Sixteens

When I was in high school, I had a Sweet Sixteen. I wore a bright blue and rainbow-striped sweater from Benetton with shoulder pads. The sweater was three sizes too big, and it swallowed its tighter, matching cousin, the sweater skirt. Who got invited to Sweet Sixteens was the stuff of Gossip Girl. Midway through my party (at the now-shuttered Brio in Highland Park), I sat front and center opening gifts, dolling out my best “oohs” and “ahhs” before 40 frenemies. I feigned excitement over a stuffed animal…

Girls Gone Mild(ish)

Bachelorette parties aren’t what they used to be—or maybe I’m not who I used to be. After spending more than a decade reporting on the club circuit, the last thing I wanted for my own pre-marital sendoff was to run around town with a veil on my head. After all, bachelorette parties—and their accompanying paraphernalia—aren’t exactly a desired demographic at most nicer clubs downtown…

Forget and Forgive

You know those couples who celebrate their relationship almost as often as they sneeze? I’m not just talking about married people. For these folks, nearly anything is a cause for celebration: the anniversary of a first date, a first kiss, a first joint trip to the grocery store. I find it irritating as hell. It’s almost as annoying as some of my female friends who refer to their husbands as "my husband" rather than just using his name—as if I won’t know whom they’re talking about…

SDUI: Saving the Date Under the Influence

Perhaps the most dangerous activity for an engaged couple to partake in before wedding invitations have been mailed? Getting hammered. In the last two weeks alone, I think we’ve added—and taken off and added again—at least 20 people to our guest list. Thanks to the influence of alcohol, acquaintances become best friends, and before we know it, offhanded verbal invites fly.

That’s how I came to invite an ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend to my wedding in September. In all fairness, he’s an ex who…

Breaking the Rules of Engagement

One thing I’ve learned since I started writing this blog back in December 2006: I’ve got to have a thick skin when it comes to readers’ comments. Among the most ominous posted last week: “I think you are rushing into everything,” and, my personal favorite, “Your marriage is going to fail.” Some of these declarations even made The Fiancé flinch. “Why would someone say that?” he asked me the other day.

The naysaying isn’t about to break up my engagement, but it did give me pause. It got me thinking…

The Marital Threshold

We’re at the halfway mark now between when we got engaged and when we’re getting married, with exactly three months to go until the wedding. Technically we haven’t been dating a full year yet; that anniversary falls in the middle of July. We had thought our short history would prompt the most inquiry from friends and family, but, it turns out, everyone’s first question is, “Where are you going to live?”—as if planning a big wedding in six months’ time isn’t enough to keep us occupied. Did I mention The Fiancé is simultaneously launching a new hot dog chain?…