Yes, Virginia, There is Room for Reality on Your Wedding Day!

The story of my impending wedding is not romantic. There is no fairy tale, or dream come true. My prince did not jump out of the pages of Cinderella, or ride in on a horse. Instead there was a set up and a beat up Pathfinder involved. He didn't save me from a life of hard work or a spinster life sentence as I quite enjoy my career and the countless opportunities my single life afforded me.

My wedding is just about really plain love; the kind marketers cannot pedal. There's no money to make in this relationship because there is no beginning to mark the occasion, no anniversary first kiss (still under debate), no defining love song to play at our wedding, and no diamond ring to encourage' me to say Yes. But that's okay, because at 32, I have recognized absolute unconditional love has nothing to do with these events. It's not only about the physical, the material or the spiritual (although important).

It's more about a decision to have faith that this other person is as equally strong as he is caring and will keep coming back to a place of love and forgiveness and for whom you will do the same. Someone who - as my girlfriend suffering through her fourth failed IVF said to me is man enough to tolerate you when you go poltergeist (because hormones take over) and won't hold it against you even if the apology does not befit the emotional crime. Because they too realize life is not easy. It's not about them and it's not about you. It's about surviving the absolute unthinkable: the infertility; the unexpected deaths; the near-death accidents that you leave you handicapped; the birth of a child with special needs; the racism; the sexism; the ugliness of the world. It doesn't matter if they are the most sensitive and have the best words to say or if they buy you the right gift to make it go away it's only important that they stay (voluntarily).

This is so unromantic, I know. Allow me to bleed the romance out for you a little more. My wedding for me was also not about flowers, limousines and a wedding dress. It's not about the venue, the invitations or the honeymoon destination.
But that's okay too.

It's okay because I never dreamed of my wedding day, of tulle and lace, of head tables and vows. (My disappointed cousin Lephie can attest). I never saw myself as a princess who would be saved that one fine day. I more or less saw myself as a princess who ruled her life just fine without sharing her throne. Queen Elizabeth did it, so did Cleopatra, why couldn't I? Like both these women I also believe in true love, the kind that tears deep into your soul to remind you that not only blood runs through your veins. Like many, I just decided to wait for it. Like many, I let this type of love pass me by, and like many more I came to realize that type of love comes again if you let it.

This is why I'm blogging today. To write to you about how my unexpected love, my unplanned wedding, and the countless expectations I've had to dispel to realize this unlikely couple and unanticipated wedding could be more than I ever dreamt of, if I had actually dreamed.

It's winter 2009. I'm writing to you from a cottage in cold Bitter Lake, just north of Halliburton. On June 6th, I will get married in the sunshine of Toronto (I hope). I also hope you'll follow my wedding story that includes an unscripted proposal, an impromptu red carpet visit to Kleinfield's (thanks to Lephie) with an unexpected kindred soul, an unorthodox kick ass engagement ring that turns heads (ok, there's a little marketing to this), learning the unthinkable during a visit to the florist, a promise made to my BFF four years ago that seems to be coming true and of course the prophetic words of the co-writer of this blog and good friend Karen Burshtein, who on the eve of my first date with my now fiancé said:

Who knows, he may not be The Galen Weston, but he sounds like the the Right Galen Weston.