I keep waiting for it to happen.

Since maybe May, (approximately) 40% of the conversations I've had with everyone from my friends and family to my (new) barber and my fiancee's co-workers have included a mention about my upcoming wedding. And, since June, 50% of those convos contain a variant of the following question:

"So…are you nervous about the big day?"

My response is usually the same.

"I wouldn't say nervous. Maybe more anxious for it to get here. But not nervous."


This is a lie. I am neither nervous nor anxious. I don't come out and say that because I don't want people to think I'm minimizing the importance of the day. A marriage is not just a piece of paper. I am making a lifelong commitment to another person. And hundreds of witnesses will be there to verify our vows. Some of them will even be sober.

But, although this day is not just any other day, I do not feel any apprehension. I am concerned about the actual wedding, but those are more logistical concerns than anything else. Perhaps this is because I've moved at my own pace. Nothing — not age, not sex, not pregnancy, not pressure — influenced this decision other than meeting and falling in love with her. I'm getting married because I want to marry my fiancee, and she wants to marry me. The idea of being with her for the rest of my life excites me. It gotdamn fucking tickles me. If it didn't, I wouldn't be getting married.

Still, the question remains. Single people and married folks alike, all asking about my nerves. All curious if my feet are losing temperature by the hour.

So I wait.

Maybe it just hasn't hit me yet. Maybe I'll be a nervous wreck the night before and morning of the ceremony. Maybe I'm fooling myself. Maybe I'm already nervous, and I'm just trying to convince myself otherwise. Maybe the married (and single) men know a bit more about me than I do. Who knows?


I do know that I'm having a bachelor party this Saturday. I will travel to Washington, D.C., and several of my friends and close family members will help me celebrate my last single weekend on Earth. I do not know the agenda, but I'm assuming it will involve alcohol, basketball, brunch, and silicone-enhanced booties. I will have a great fucking time.

And then the day will end. And I'll travel back to Pittsburgh to be with my soon-to-be-wife. Because that's where I want to be.