Someone once told me that the days before the wedding can lead to one of a couple’s biggest fights. The stress, the emotions, and the exhaustion all play into it. Well, it turns out that the Friday before the wedding was (almost) our day.
The morning after my bachelorette party was, well, not pretty to say the least. We were all “feelin’ it” but had to pull it together to make the drive from Denver to Tabernash, Colorado, which is about two hours along a windy mountain pass. I’d be dropping off Bridesmaid AC and her sister at Devil’s Thumb Ranch before meeting up with Mr. Cowboy Boot to go get our marriage license.
But, Mr. CB had a different idea about the day’s itinerary. He was already up in Tabernash and wanted to have lunch with some of his guys about an hour back towards Denver (the opposite way of the County Clerk’s office). The thing was that we only had an 8-hour window to get our marriage license (half of which was gone by this point) and, it being Friday, made it the only day to do it before the wedding. The clock was ticking.
I was about to go into bridezilla mode and mandate lunch be canceled but I forced myself to keep my cool. I told him to go, knowing that lunch would probably take longer than his two-hour estimate but that we’d still have a couple of hours afterward to get our license. I was hungover, exhausted, and not in the mood to argue. Secretly, I was dying to sneak in a nap and a shower too. So, I went into our cabin at Devil’s Thumb and did a little meditation to snap out of my bad mood. Take note, brides-to-be, this works.
Close your eyes, take deep breaths, and just let out some “Oms”. It will transport you right back to your last yoga class, where you were most likely uber-relaxed, and your humming will let your brain take a few breaths too.
By the time Mr. CB got back, it was around 3:30 (a few hours after his estimate). I think he was relieved to find a happy wife-to-be as opposed to an angry, tantrum-throwing bridezilla. I was impressed by my ability to not be angry too, especially after he’d teased me by text during lunch and told me he wasn’t coming back to Tabernash that day. Heartless, I tell you.
We hopped in the car, drove the thirty minutes to Hot Sulphur Springs, where the County Clerk’s office is located for Grand County. There was no one in line, just a woman behind the desk ready to take our money and get our information. She took down our address, our parents’ names, and had us pay $30. Before handing over the license, though, she asked us a random question.
“Are you related by blood?” She said. Is that normal? Did those of you getting your license in NYC or less-rural places than ours get this question? We couldn’t help but laugh.
After asking us if we were inbred, she had us read a statement of intent in unison basically noting that everything we were declaring was true. She apologized because normally they have music for this part, but they were in the process of moving and had misplaced it. I’m so curious to find out what kind of music that was?
In the car on the way back to the ranch, another hot topic came up: the bachelor party. It was planned for that evening and as of that point, they were planning on renting a limo and driving two hours (each way!) to Denver to find some bars and clubs. The area around the Ranch only has about two dive bars which weren’t up to Mr. CB’s guys’ standards* for this particular evening. [*Note: See Pengy’s post to understand why bachelor parties have to be humongous affairs.]
There was talk of strip clubs and while I know Mr. CB to be the kind of shy guy to sit on his hands at a place like that, it still bugged me. Nonetheless, I tried my relaxation method to, again, keep my cool. Somehow the conversation got completely blown out of proportion and we were arguing about strip clubs and trust and everything you don’t want to be arguing about two days before your wedding. I’ve never been to one, but my mind could only conjure up images I don’t want to describe here. And, thus, I had trouble being okay with it.
Lucky for me, we were able to evade this whole debacle because the limo idea got squashed and the guys ended up at one of the aforementioned dive bars in nearby Winter Park, and the only women there were the type “you pay to keep their clothes on,” the guys said.
What’s your opinion on strip clubs? Are you cool with your guy going to one for his bachelor party? Or does it irk you, too?