Connected

The moment I walked into the store I instantly knew I needed to turn around and walk out.

The woman sitting behind the desk hopped up with a T.V newscaster worthy smile on her face.

“Hello, welcome to David’s Bridal. Do you have an appointment? Are you the bride? What’s your size? What’s the date of your wedding?”

“Uh… yes.” My mind was still stunned by the layers of perfection that filled the room. Her perfect curls and black fitted business jacket projected a perfect contrast up against the thirty-five different shades of white that were perfectly ordered by style, color shade, and size. Her perfectly white smile with her perfectly straight teeth looked at me with utmost perfect presentation.

“I’ll get your designer”, she said as she maintained her plastered smile and rang for another perfectly presented woman.

I felt my heart race. My eyes could not seem to adjust to the brightness in the room. My stomach felt nauseated by the aroma of glitter and lavender.

“So, what do you like about your job?” I managed to mutter out some form of a question—something that would get my mind off of the strange pseudo-reality around me and refocused on the most real significant aspect of this place: the people in it.

“I love making a woman’s happy ending come true.” Her smile somehow remained on her face unshaken.

“Oh. Sweet”. What does someone say to something like that?

The next hour consisted of measuring tapes, clipboards, and being taken through row after row of hundreds of “unique and personalized” wedding dress options—all of which seemed to look exactly the same to me. The designer would hold one up and ask my opinion as I shrugged, “sure, looks good,” I said indifferently at every option she presented me.

“No. This is your big day. Your dress has to be perfect.” Her face somehow maintained an exact replica of the other woman’s smile. It must be a part of the training to work at this bridal store.

I stuck out like a giraffe in a flock of sheep. That is, really clean sheep, with flawless smiles and perfect hair.

After another hour of trying on too many dresses to keep track of, I finally left the store of white perfection. As I adjusted back to reality and started seeing colors again I started wondering why weddings were so intense. Why is there so much pressure on the bride and her posse to overthink and exacerbate every tiny detail that goes into one day? Is it because this is my happy ending? My happily ever after? My closing scene to a perfectly flawless rom-com? And if it is supposed to be then what happens post-rom-com? What happens after the credits roll and the limelight shuts off? What happens when the thirty-five shades of white get stained and worn and the rose-colored glasses get knocked off by reality?

I sat in my car, waiting to fully regain my sense of reality before I went into my fiancé’s apartment to make dinner with him. Our story was far from a rom-com. It was not layers of perfection woven together by thirty-five shades of white. It was not built on the foundation of perfect presentation, or flawless appearance. No, we have something far greater and far more resilient than that. We have love.

Love that is messy and enduring. Love that seeks the best for one another, while being fully aware that we will stumble and screw-up at times. Love that is more captured by shades of colors mixing together than stark white wrapped in an outer-casing of perfection.

Was this wedding our “happily ever after”? No. I anticipate it is actually just the beginning of a new chapter. A new messy, unpredictable, beautiful, flawed, adventurous chapter. Was our wedding going to be perfect? No. I’m sure we will forget some small detail. I’m sure my curls will not all perfectly stay in place. I’m sure my eye liner will smear as I cry tears of joy. I’m sure it won’t go exactly how we planned it.

And yet, I am sure that some of the flaws will capture some of the richest beauty of the whole ceremony. I am sure that our ceremony will ultimately capture the journey of our love: intentional, passionate, unique, and not what we thought it would be.

Love is messy when us as people try to love one another. And yet, while it is imperfect, we still manage to learn how to love one another well and even sustain a love relationship with our significant others, children, and friends. The key ingredient is seeking the best for them as a person, and acknowledging that they will not always know what is best for them.

Nancy Alonso’s book “disconnect” touches on themes of disconnection through short stories. However, her book also touches on the ways in which the theme of disconnection is often woven with the theme of love. Perhaps this is because often times when we seek to love one another and get it wrong it does indeed result in disconnection—disconnection with the one we love and disconnection with ourselves.

One of the most drastic examples of this disconnection is in the short story “Confession”. This short story talks about a mother who is not in her right mind and confesses to a doctor’s office that she would have sex with her son if he asked her to so he would feel loved through sex. She confesses this as a testament to her deep love for him; however, as a reader looking at this story through clear eyes it is evident that an offer such as that one is not motivated by love.

This mother has become so disconnected with herself, and with the world around her that she loses the ability to see clearly what the meaning of love actually is. She claims that she would do that for her son because she loves him so deeply she would do anything for him, and that he needs to feel the connection and intimacy that comes from sex. However, this belief is clearly rooted in her own inability to discern what is best for her son, not love. She can’t discern what is best for her son because she is disconnected from reality, she is disconnected from the implications and affects that would occur if she were to act out of her own foggy motivations.

For us to truly love one another well we need to be fully connected to the world around us. Love wants what is best for the other person, but in order to know what that is we have to begin to understand the reality we live in, as well as our inherent worth and value, so that we can learn how to see what is best for the people we are seeking to love. Whether it is a romantic relationship, a paternal one, or a friendship we need to be willing to release our pseudo-realities if we want to see our love relationships thrive.

As I think about my wedding and what I want it to capture, I know that I want it to be a picture of love. Not a perfect, flawless appearance. Not a clean-cut, romanticized scene from a Rom Com. Not a fairy tale. But rather, a clear picture of what love is—complicated, inexplicable, beautiful, messy love. And when I remember that that is my intention I find my breath. I see the colors that surround me. I find the ability to fully adjust back to reality, get out of my car and go into my fiancé’s apartment to make dinner.