Aloha-ppy

"No, you told me the house was available the 28th, 29th, AND 30th."

I sighed, annoyed, and covered my mouth to cough while waiting for a reply. I sat in the doctor's office, Eric on my left, waiting to learn what ailment I have. While waiting, the property manager from the house we wanted to rent in Charleston called. We had found the house of our dreams-- a place to exchange our vows and celebrate with our friends and families. Or, so we'd thought.

"No," she said, "it won't be available until the 29th at 2pm. I'm sure I emailed you that."

My wedding vision escaped my mind's eye as I rolled my actual ones.

"Ok, well that just won't work. I'm going to have to figure something out and call you back." I snapped my phone shut, sank deeper into the waiting room sofa and groaned.

"It's a no-go," I told him. "We can't get this house either." My frustration was rising with my body temperature. Both were reaching a breaking point.

"Maybe we should just do it in Hawaii." I said, half facetiously, half hoping he'd say ok.

Here's the background: We've been planning a vacation to Hawaii for months. And, since we got engaged, there have been points at which we've both joked about how much easier it would be to simply get married while on our vacation. And then, bowing our heads back down to worship what we thought we were everyone else's wishes, we reluctantly went back to planning our "normal" wedding.

We left the doctor's office, prescriptions for me in hand, and stopped at the first CVS.

"No really," he said. "Let's think about this."

"I can't do it without my family there. That's a dealbreaker for me."

"Ok," he countered, "let's fly them out there. Mine too."

Now, this got me excited. Before I even met Eric, the idea of a frou-frou, hyper-expensive wedding was not my cup of tea. When we first started dating, I told him how I imagined getting married on my honeymoon someday. I remember confessing to a girlfriend that I actually didn't want a big wedding and wanted something fun and memorable. When doing so, I waited for her reply, holding my breath. I breathed relief to hear her echo my sentiment-- I wasn't alone.

So, why then, when we got engaged, did I start planning this Not-Me Wedding? I can't answer. Probably because I thought it was what I wanted. But, now I can easily see it was not. I was never excited, only stressed and worried.

"Let's look at flight prices before we call our parents," he suggested. Good idea, I thought.

We high-fived when we realized that flying our families to Hawaii would cost us less than having a wedding in South Carolina. We've already saved and saved and saved for our trip to HI, so that's covered.

This was a done deal.

"Hey Mom, Eric and I have this idea: How would you like to come to our wedding in Hawaii next month?" Of course, she said yes. Within two days, my parents and brother, my grandma and her boyfriend, and Eric's parents had flights reserved in their names. Destination: Honolulu.

Immediately, when we made the final decision, a weight of stress and worry lifted out of my body and I felt lighter. And, in the past couple days since we arranged this choice, I have never been more happy or more sure of anything in my life. Not only am I sure that I am marrying the only man for me, I am positive that we're doing it in a way that honors our style and togetherness as a couple. We are starting our life together by honoring our own wishes, doing what is best for us, and having the courage to say: What's best for everyone else isn't always what will be best for us.

And, for a couple of people who typically march to their own drummer, it still turned out to be harder than it sounds.

"You're sure you want to do this?" I asked him for the fiftieth time tonight. "'Cause this isn't just, 'Oh this will be so fun in Hawaii.' This means you're with me forever."

"I know, I'm sure, I'm sure. I just want to marry you, I don't care about anything else, as long as you're happy. Are you sure?"

"Are you kidding? I am the happiest girl I know."