I’m not very good at ending things. It took me something like three years to break up with one boyfriend. My first novel had a piss-poor ending that left no one satisfied, including me. I just lose steam when it comes to the end, and that’s sort of what happened with my Transatlantic Love Story that’s hanging out over there in the side bar. But it’s something else too.

Secret Forty-one, Revealed. I didn’t really enjoy my wedding. I hate to even write that down. It’s like the ultimate sin, right? You spend all of that money and it’s meant to be the happiest day of your freakin’ life and everybody’s been telling you it’s going to be the best day of your freakin’ life since you were like three-years-old. Before you even know who it is you are or the best match for that person you’ll become, you are told stories about a picture perfect day where all of your dreams come true in the form of a Disney-style celebration where everyone is happy and loves you and is thrilled to the brink of their own existence with excitement for your love.

Yeah, right. Does that even ever happen? Ever?

Since being married, I’ve come to discover that many people don’t enjoy their weddings and everyone is scared to admit it. And really, why would you have a good time? All of your crazy relatives get crazier because they all think they are entitled to some kind of grand gesture that says publicly how much they’ve meant in your life. You inevitably cannot satisfy everyone’s feelings and needs and they do expect you to. Unless you have a wedding planner (which you should, it’s the biggest mistake I made to not have one), then you are coordinating everything from pianist fees to how much water should be in the centerpieces while trying to get yourself ready for happily ever after.

For most people, their wedding isn’t the funnest, most exciting day of their lives. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong but I’ve seen it with my own eyes. One of my friends had a headache and no one danced to the band she’d hired, meaning the wedding was over two hours earlier than she had expected. Another friend got into a few arguments with her husband and the reception ended with her screaming, “You’re a bastard,” at him before walking out. Yeah, happiest day of our lives. Whatever.

If this blog is anything, it’s the truest look at marriage that I can depict so it felt like a big fat lie to end my love story with only the good highlights of my wedding day. It also feels wrong to end it with bitterness and resentment. The way I feel about it now is really mixed. The pictures are beautiful and I have snapshots of bliss saved in my head. I think I may know how to write it now but I just wanted to explain, beforehand, that my wedding day was not the happiest day of my life. This was.