People tend to write about weddings in springtime, when the world is lush and green, bridal parties cover the steps of every house of worship like a taffeta amoeba. But by then it’s too late.
Those beautiful June weddings were planned in the gray, dreary days of winter — a perfects setting for tense negotiations over budgets and whether so-and-so is going to be your best man because there will be a bar at the reception and you know how he gets.
My husband and I were married a little over three years ago on a beach in Massachusetts. We called it “eloping to a disclosed location” because “destination wedding” implied we would be covering the cost for anyone but ourselves, which we had no interest in doing.