Hey, Jealousy

When I first visited Hawaii four years ago, I wrote a long entry about the trip that I published for one second before I hid it. The post involved running, the upcoming New York City Marathon, musings on how to successfully dodge tourists and people carrying surfboards, and how unnatural it is to experience 80-degree weather in October. Given that it feels like it gets that hot sometimes in D.C. in October, I don’t know what I was smoking. Then again, it was my first October in D.C., so I probably hadn’t been properly introduced to (read: tortured by) real D.C. Indian summers that last for-frickin’-ever.

You think that all seems innocuous—why the hell would I hide it? Well, because there was a huge rant about all the brides I was seeing around my hotel and how jealous I was. Yes, I am hanging my head in shame as I type this (without typos, too, because I’m just that good of a typist), but it’s true: I hated seeing every single bride I saw because she was not me.

Boo. Hoo.

This time around, I was just really, really glad there was a kick ass white gold Sholdt band beneath my emerald engagement ring from Kona—I’m really, really glad that the planning and the stress leading up to the wedding day are over. Mind you, that isn’t to say the day wasn’t great at all. I absolutely love looking back on my wedding day and will periodically leaf through our awesome photos because the thought of having married IP still makes me grin like a fool more than 10 months later. But in every bride’s face this time around I saw not only the happiness of being married, but the melting away of all the stress that wedding planning induces. That’s why I don’t get people who mope around and say they miss their wedding planning process. Do they not realize they are free from the monsters that are paper projects and finding the right pair of shoes for their dresses? Instead of grumbling internally about why it’s not me, this time I was glad that it wasn’t me. If I could, would I relive the wedding all over again? No, I don’t think so. It happened like it was supposed to happen, and I am happy with that. And the end result is the same: I’m Mrs. WordNerida IPia, and that’s all that matters.

But yeah, I was totally jealous. So shoot me! To boot, here’s my long-hidden paragraph on the subject:

The hotel where we stayed and held our event is the oldest in Waikiki, and if I hadn’t been placed on the modern side, I’d have been wondering about ghosts upon check in. I’ve seen enough entities clad in white, though—the hotel has bride upon countless bride passing through each day, taking photographs of themselves and their bridesmaids and of course their grooms, giggly and happy and overly saccharine. It’s not so much that they are annoying me (I am conscious of not nearing them when I have coffee in hand, trying to spare them my klutziness), but they’re making me jealous. At first, it was just a creeping feeling, one I could easily brush aside and ignore. Now, five days in, I see a bride and my heart leaps with envy, envy that sometimes makes my stomach churn uncomfortably (and puts off lunch). I could try to deny it, but it’s there—I know that, sooner or later, I want to be in their place. As the only unmarried girlfriend from my high school quintet, I get a lot of grief from the hometown, and until this week, I hadn’t realized I could want to stop being the last so badly. What can I say? I’m a woman, already 28 to boot. That translates to old (and spinster-y) in a lot of peoples’ books. Maybe the feeling will fade when my plane finally takes off and heads east. Eastward ho!

I knew, even back then, that this type of commitment would eventually happen, and even my boss teased me back then about how I should take notes for when IP and I married. I’d just joke the joke away, but inside I kind of was taking notes. The biggest notes I took away were these: no way in hell am I wearing a tiara or doing a destination wedding in a big tourist area.

In all, can I admit that I wanted the thrill of planning a wedding and all the hullabaloo that comes along with being engaged? I think I’m woman enough to cop to that. The end result, though, was marriage to IP, and it’s that fact that makes me the happiest. Wedding planning is not all it’s cracked up to be (and I should’ve known this, with a background in planning), but marriage is delightful. I’m not saying it’s easy—it’s a relationship, and IP and I work hard at it, but it’s that we work at it together that makes me the happiest. After I returned from my trip, just sitting and talking and laughing and joking with IP for a few hours before bed was awesome, and all the dresses and place cards and beaches and Mai Tais in the world wouldn’t make a whit of difference if it weren’t IP waiting for me, be it at the end of the aisle or at the end of a long trip. Marrying when we did was right for us, even if my 28-year-old self was jealous. We came into the marriage wiser, having endured many tests and obstacles and surprises, stronger for it all. It what was right for us, and I knew it then. I just let the green-eyed monster get a hold of me, is all.

*looks down again, shuffles feet* So there you have it.

However, this time around, I saw a baby shower at the hotel. I asked myself if I was jealous. The answer was no. I think we’ll deliberate on the kid thing a bit more!