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Life List: Marrying Me, Willy Wonka Style


When most of your romantic stories are entitled The Sex Worker In The Basement or That Time I Dragged Becca All Over The City So I Could Make Out With a Hot Guy In a Bar, people have a lot of questions. Like, "Hold on. Are we talking Russian sex slave?" and "Any hot guy or did you have a specific one in mind?" (No, no, and yes.)

When most of your romantic stories start out that way, you have to admit that you probably aren't marrying another human any time soon.

Why This is Absolutely and Unequivocally Okay with Me

You shouldn't ever marry someone unless you're sure. I've never been sure. Plus, the thought of walking down a church aisle in a white dress while everyone stares makes me faintly nauseous. Spending a year of my life trying to decide who gets invited and what gets eaten and where to put garlands of things makes me want to change my name and move to Omaha.

So why I decided to throw an amazing, obnoxious, sparkly Willy Wonka-themed wedding by and for myself remains a complete mystery. Also, it doesn't. Can you imagine the insane shit such an event would allow? Golden tickets as invitations and men in top hats and bubble wars and banquet tables full of chocolate. There would be fairy lights and dancing and sparklers and all of my favorite people in one place at the same time.

Not Such a Mystery, Really

If you never get married, you never have an excuse to have all your people in one room. Because when are all your favorite people in one place at one time? Your wedding and your funeral. That's it. That's what you get. And at only one of those things can you guzzle champagne and do a conga line with your brother, your third grade teacher, and the friends who let you sleep on their couch after breakups.

I don't get to have that because I might never get married? I CALL BULLSHIT.

So I put Willy Wonka-Themed Self Wedding on my list for next year.

I've started a pinterest board. I opened a savings account account to pay for it. Attire will be Formal Ridiculous. People have started volunteering to help. Leah became my first bridesmaid when she said she'd never been one before and hinted heavily that I was her last shot. Nicole will bake an enormous rainbow layer cake. Drea will be my official photographer. (To be fair, she didn't volunteer so much as she was informed.) Holly will be my Chief Help-Make-This-Thing-Amazing consultant.

Plans didn't really go off the rails until I decided I wanted camels.

"Did Charlie and the Chocolate Factory even have camels?"



"Also, I want the camels to be sparkly. Where can you get glitter camels?"

Why This Plan Digs Into So Many of My Insecurities

What if no one comes because it's not a "real thing"? Do I go all out and treat it like a real wedding, and invite Midwestern relatives who would then have to decide if they're going to fly out to something that's not really a real wedding? Is this a real wedding or isn't it? What if I feel like an absolute fool? Do I have it in LA or in San Francisco? If I have it in San Francisco, will the LA people come? Vice versa? I've never hosted a big party like this before, what if I forget the food? (I won't forget the food. But I might forget pants.) Am I just committing to being alone forever?

I have some feelings about this.

But then I remember why I wanted to do it in the first place. I want to have all my favorite people around me for an afternoon. I want to watch the pieces of my world mix and I want us all to eat chocolate and dance and have fun and celebrate the fact that this is a world where a 33-year-old woman can decide to have a Willy Wonka wedding all by herself and hey, that kind of world is pretty damn awesome.

Especially when so many fun people are racing through a park trailing ribbons and sparklers, followed by camels on a sugar high.