Yes it’s been sixteen years; sixteen years of being married to my partner (both personal and business) and best friend. The funny part about all of this is I never planned to get married. Marriage was a waste of time. I had great plans for my life and being tethered to someone else, with different dreams, just wasn’t part of them.
Then I met my husband. Considering I picked him up in a bar, the old Amsterdam Brew Pub on King Street which I don’t think is around anymore, it seems bizarre that we’re still together, sixteen years later (actually eighteen years if you count when we met in the bar). There must have been something to our chance encounter (and it had nothing to do with my friend performing match tricks — putting matches out on her tongue) because I ended up moving in with him a few days later.
I can remember the day in cold February. We planned the whole thing is a few months and on little funds (remember, getting married wasn’t a big thing on my agenda so I never saved for it).
My mom stayed with me and played chauffeur to myself and my maid of honor. I remember the night before driving the route with her from the house to the church so she would know how to get there in the morning. But we didn’t take into consideration the city’s [stupid] time operated street signs (the sign that said we couldn’t turn down the street we were driving on was flipped closed until the next day when we wanted to turn it was flipped open) so we arrived late trying to find a new route. Father reassured my husband by telling him that maybe I changed my mind, it happens.
We borrowed a friend’s car for our getaway vehicle. My husband and friends decorated the car with streamers to make it look all wedding fancy. Then they raced along the Gardiner Expressway to get to the church. Our wedding fancy car now was now decorated with little pieces of masking tape and ripped squares of the surviving tissue paper. For engineers they weren’t smart enough to figure out that paper would rip when stuck to a fast-moving vehicle.
After the wedding we visited the photographer that took our engagement photos: the photo booth on the arrival deck of Union Station train station. Needless to say we turned a few heads (and even more when we tried to cram all four of us into the booth at one time).
We went back to a hotel pub for our reception where people from another party tried to come in and take our food and my match-tongue friend helped the bartender by dancing and drinking behind the bar. I washed down my day’s diet of Tums with some wine and cake(s).
Yes it was a memorable day and an interesting sixteen years. I look forward to the next sixteen and the next sixteen after that.
I love you hunny! xoxo