Michael: On Eloping

Sweet Tea and I have just got back from our vacation in New Orleans and I am now donning a bright shiny object on my left ring finger. Yep. You guessed it. We got hitched.

Our story……

As most of you are aware, Casandra and I have been down this road of “marital bliss” once before. Both of our previous weddings were spur of the moment jaunts down that proverbial “aisle”. Both were very similar in their spontaneity. Both were definitely not traditional; to say the least. And though our marriages failed for similar reasons, we entered them under completely different circumstances.

Casandra was in love with her ex-husband. Nuff said.

My ex-wife and I? Not so much.

At least on my end of it.

My now ex and I had been dating for just over a year when it became very clear to me that this was NOT the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with (can I hear an “AMEN!!” from the back row?). So it just so happened that I had called her the night before our next day at school (we had met and began dating while in my second year in college) to let her know that I had something I wanted to talk about. The ex had informed me that she too had something just as important to discuss. So as it were, plans were made to meet in Marietta (Ohio) at the little coffee shop we had frequented quite often during our college years.

Made sense.

The next day we sat down to our bagels and coffee and started our conversing as we had so many mornings before. Then came the moment of truth. She had something to say. I had something to say. A short game of “verbal volleyball” ensued. And after a few minutes of “YOU go first…no…YOU go first”, the ex unfortunately went first.

Seven months later… the whale, I mean bride, wore a white maternity shirt with purple stretch leggings. I’m not quite sure what I was wearing. After a phone call to my brother Scott with the very misleading proposition of “let’s take a ride”, I had procured our witness. My brother, who was simply dumbfounded over what was taking place, stood there in silence. A glance his way that was meant to convey “Object, you asshole” that was lost in translation and took to mean, “Don’t say a fucking word”, led to the inevitable conclusion to the ceremony.

I was married.

To this day, I thank my brother every chance I get for watching my back that day. Thanks again, asshole.

Those of you who know me are fully aware of how that story wound up. After thirteen years, and not for a lack of trying on my part, my marriage ended in divorce (long story). A few months to get over the shock; a short period of time spent in personal reflection; some radical changes to my appearance and attitude; and I was once again a single man and out “mak’n up for lost time”. Roughly ten months into my newly acquired freedom, I found myself in Harrisonburg, Virginia, doing my part as a groomsman in Brian and Andrea’s wedding.

I was trying my best to find something to do in this new town other than setting around Brian’s house playing X-Box and listening to the guys harking upon how stupid I was getting married to my ex in the first place. Are you fucking kidding me? Like I needed to be reminded of my perpetual state of HUHAS the past fourteen years up to that point. Fuck you guys. I mean seriously. Besides, the guys had no desire to do anything other than stay home and reminisce about the good old days. And give me shit.

Then came the night of the wedding rehearsal.

Enter: Casandra.

A few bullet points were mentioned in Casandra’s post on how we met. To be honest, I was just as adamant about not meeting the girl. How dare friends and family members try to set me up with someone or suggest that this nonchalant blond with the brash attitude was a woman I would have a lot in common with. I just wanted to go out and have some fun.

Yeah. That worked out real well.

Sleeping on the floor at Brian’s was getting the better of me. And my lower back was starting to let me know it. So Casandra, having caught wind of my plight at the rehearsal dinner, was nice enough to offer me the warmth and comfort of her son’s futon back at her place. Actually, spending time in the company of purty ladies was much more appealing to me than staying in a house full of guys. Let’s be honest. And as mentioned before; Allie, Casandra, and I set up and talked a little the night before the wedding. Just casual conversation.

The night after the wedding, Casandra and I, and a few members of the wedding party, went out to The Pub for that long awaited something to do. Oh, well. One night out on this particular trip was better than nothing. And as Candy and I have stated before, nothing happened between us other than another night of casual conversation and dancing. I am, after all, a gentleman. Not much of a dancer. But a gentleman. Honestly, there was just something about her that made me think otherwise. Though the rumors and speculation were obviously present, judging from the look on everyone’s faces, as she dropped me off at the Golden Corral the next morning to catch my ride home.

I went back home to P’burg the next morning. Though I’m not sure exactly how I got there. I have been told that it was Scott who drove. I honestly don’t remember. I must have been really out of it to have let my brother drive my Jeep. For those of you who are privy to the knowledge of my brothers driving prowess (or lack thereof), than you would agree that I must have still been quite intoxicated to have voluntarily let Scott drive us back to West Virginia. You know this to be true, O Brother of Mine.

A few days later I had an overwhelming desire to call Casandra back. I was six hours away. But fuck it. Nothing wrong with starting a friendship. Right?

Casandra was, without exception, the most sui generis (look it up) woman I had ever met. She was stunningly beautiful, extremely intelligent, well-spoken, witty, fun loving and full of life. She’s was also brash, sarcastic, facetious, self-confident, fiercely independent, and honest to a fault. And damn if she couldn’t dance.

Did I mention beautiful?

I believe that I did.

Casandra has held true to her “realist mentality” through every facet of her life. She has lived life by her own rules. With no regrets. Has had no qualms about the decisions she’s made or the experiences she’s had. Has always done her “own thing”. Was a well-rounded single mom. And it goes without saying that this woman intrigued the hell out of me.

Life is funny. I was planning to move to Harrisonburg long before Casandra and I had ever met one another. I had visited Brian and Andrea the April before their wedding and had rather enjoyed my short time spent here in “the ‘burg”. I had felt that a change in venue would help me cope with all the shit I was dealing with due to the dissolution of my marriage. Among other things. I just needed to get away. Perhaps a new “stomp’n grounds” was in order? Soooo….

On May 15 of 2007, the day my divorce finalized, I packed everything I had not already sold to get out of debt (another long story) into two large garbage sacks, a box, a small duffle bag, said my goodbyes to some close friends and family members, and loaded up my 1998 Jeep Cherokee Laredo and head’d south.

Of course, it should be noted that during all this time while I was still in West Virginia, Casandra and I had been cultivating a friendship from a distance. Eight months of two hour phone calls (actually, the calls would have gone much longer had the cell phone batteries not have died half way through the majority of our conversations), a plethora of cell phone texts, a few informative emails and instant messages here and there, and a few road trips back to H’burg for highly anticipated visits (ahhh…the memory of picnic chicken and that potato salad of hers), and I got to know Sweet Tea from the inside out.

I had gone “old school” (my grandfather would have been proud) during the time we started getting to know one another. By the time I had arranged for our first kiss (a very innocent and romantic moment for the both of us) we had known one another for quite sometime. We hadn’t even held hands up to that point. And by January of 2007, four months into our little courtship ritual, both Casandra and I had since found ourselves falling in love with one another. Admitting this fact took a little longer, mind you. But we were fall’n none the less.

By August of that same year, Casandra asked me to marry her. Yes. SHE asked me (it is, after all, the feminist in her that has had no issues being the one to have popped the question first). And for a woman like Casandra to even consider marriage again is a true testament to how she had come full circle in her life and found it in her heart to fall in love again.

As for me? I was simply blindsided. Falling in love, that is.

So. I said yes.

Though the “court’n” element of our relationship was very much old fashioned, Candy and I decided that a church wedding was out of the question. It’s just not “us”. Casandra doesn’t like the ceremony itself and I only wanted to fast forward to the open bar reception. So we both made a pact that we would do it our way. A quick exchange of vows was all we really wanted. Sweet Tea had fell in love with the city of New Orleans when she had vacationed there back in 2000 with Andrea and Allie. So what perfect place to start our new life together, eh? To marry the man that she loved in the city that she loved.

How romantic. (insert puking sounds here)

Of course, going to New Orleans to say “I do” would also have alienated a lot of family and friends had we had an actual wedding. Not everyone could afford a trip to Louisiana. Or could have found the time. And the trip to New Orleans was also our long deserved vacation. So there you have it.

That story…..and the preparations we made the months before the big day will be elaborated upon in the next series of posts…..

Now take a deep breath people.