Amy

I've wanted to get married since I was in diapers. Maybe it was the dress. Maybe the glamor. Who knows. As a kid, I staged at least three weddings that we have proof of, with the neighborhood kids as my groom and attendants. I was always the bride. In high school, I was wedding obsessed. I read the bridal magazines and books. I even had plans of turning my obsession into a career by becoming a wedding planner (a plan which I thankfully did not follow). When I started dating, I dated seriously. I was looking for my soul mate, my life partner, my groom. And with each guy I dated, came a fantasy wedding. I imagined marrying Scott, my high school sweetheart, in our school's auditorium, surround by our friends. Max and my wedding was to take place in a garden, me in a big gown. Christoph and I were to wed at the Blue Mouse Theater, the $5 theater that plays the Rocky Horror Picture Show where he and I had met. I was going to walk down the isle to a remix of Pachabelle's Cannon and wear a beautiful ball gown with a sweetheart neck, cap sleeves, and black details. Even the Portland guy (so named because he lived in Portland causing me to move there), Chris, conjured wedding fantasies, even though we dated for a total of three months. But when Mr. Right came along, there were no wedding fantasies. Sure, I knew he was the one right from the start but I was more interested in our life together than the way would kick it off. Perhaps that's how I knew he was “the one.”