The One~ Greg Harrison

My wife and I recently attended a wedding and it sure was an eye-
opener. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself. I did. It was a nice
wedding. Beautiful garden ceremony at a very nice hotel on the
marina. Perhaps 11 am is a tad on the early side, but pleasant.
It’s just that everything is different when you attend a wedding after
you’ve been married awhile. And have kids. Everything. I should say
that my wife and I have been married for thirteen years, and we are
very happily married. And we have kids.

And I’m telling you -- it’s just different.

For example, one thing that made me super happy at this wedding is
that they served coffee upon our arrival. There was a big urn filled
with delicious hot coffee and satisfyingly solid coffee mugs! Mugs I
tell you! The faces of every married couple perked up when they found
out about the coffee. Sample conversation between us and some close
married friends:

    Us:                  Oh hi – how are you? We’re so happy to see you!
    Other Couple: It’s great to see you guys! It’s been a long time... 
                           Hey is that coffee?
    Us:                  Yeah. Coffee. It’s really good too. Go get some.

See, people with kids need coffee. This coffee was a very positive
sign for Paul and Jasmine’s wedding: they demonstrated that they care
about us - the guests. That’s exactly the type of reassurance we
“couples with children” need. I bet lunch is going to be wonderful.

I should mention a key point here: This was an “adults only”
wedding. So as we delighted in our caffeine bliss, we inquired about
the baby-sitter arrangements. Each couple explained who was watching
their kids. Being “sans enfants” with other “sans enfants” couples at
a social gathering is an extremely rare situation. With a younger
crowd, this type of freedom could easily set off an orgy. Not a
concern here, as we are all far too tired for that. Yet, for couples
in the midst of a temporary kid-free dreamworld, it is like being
whisked away on a hot air balloon without pants. And the younger your
kids, the higher your balloon floats. You feel very free. It’s lovely
and it’s intoxicating. We had it all. Coffee, and no kids.

But trouble loomed, at least for the men. You see, the men were all
wearing dark suits, and it was partly sunny. Sweat began to bead on
our faces! Suddenly I was melting inside my suit! When we were
younger, and single this never happened! When is this wedding going
to start!? My god, Global Warming! I briefly contemplate if I could
pull off wearing an all-white suit like Travolta in Staying Alive.
Sadly the answer is no. But the point is moot. I’m melting in my
dark suit. Meanwhile, my wife, who is sitting right next to me, is
wearing a dress and a wool coat. Yes. Wool. Coat. And get this: she
was drawing residual heat from her coffee mug, pressing it against her
cheeks. The lesson for you newlyweds: couples with children require
individualized thermal settings.

I tried to concentrate on something else besides the heat. Back when
I was single, it was easy: I’d check out the bridesmaids and other
single ladies at the wedding. I’d laugh at heat! I’d generate my own
heat! That instinct never really goes away. But today I found myself
pondering details like “why is one groomsman wearing sunglasses, but
none of the others? Who is going to clean up all these rose petals? I
hope they compost them. I really can’t even hear that violin. Is she
really playing? Is that what “sotto” means?”

The minister launches into his schpiel while I wonder what will be
served at the reception. I’m hungry, but I snap out of my reverie
when he starts to talk about THE ONE. Paul and Jasmine, like most
newlyweds, were meant for each other. A miracle has occurred and
brought them together. Somehow, against all odds, they found each
other. It seems to be standard wedding fare. But then I start doing
some calculations in my head, thinking about all the people on the
planet Earth. Maybe this minister is mocking me. I twist his loving
speech in my mind:

“You married folks have so much baggage that there is only one true
love that will put up with your shit.” Is that true? Is my wife the
only one on the planet with whom I’m compatible? She’s the only one
that would love me? No, that can’t be true. I’m weird maybe, but I’m
not that bad. I’m still loveable. Right?

This mockery leads me to indignation. HEY! I was a newlywed once. A
fine newlywed. In fact, my wife and I had a very long and romantic
“schmoopie” phase which sickened PLENTY of people, I will have you
know. In retrospect, it’s humiliating, but man, she was THE ONE. And
I’m pretty sure I was THE ONE too.

Suddenly we are at the reception and concerns about my worldwide
compatibility give way to enjoyment of a very nice heirloom tomato
salad. For all of us married couples at the table, the food is made
ever so delicious by the absence of our children. The subtle nuances
delight my tastebuds (this salt is so salty!) as I say yes to a refill
of wine. And then every single couple spends the next hour talking
about our children. As much as we enjoy being without them, we can’t
stop thinking about them. To outsiders, I’m sure it must be as
annoying as our schmoopie phase. And then it hits me, and I
understand why I’m stuck with my one true love, and she is stuck with
me. Yup. She’s THE ONE.

Happy Valentines Day.