Are We Lame?

I sat outside with some friends on the Legal Seafood Patio after work on Friday. They made plans for the rest of their evenings -- some were heading to a bar to watch the Bruins game, others were off to celebrate a birthday at a Mexican restaurant -- and I sat there, wistfully. "Oh, cool, thanks for the invite," I joked.

The response from my friend, Caitlin: "Well, you're just going to go home and read with your wife anyway!"

Ouch. But she was right. (Well, she would have been right on most nights. Last night, we actually did go out for a bit.) The meaning of "read," of course, changes from time to time. We watch a few shows on Hulu, sit through an occasional movie, write blog posts, browse the Web, peruse magazines, and take online courses. And we talk a lot. But on most weekday nights (yes, including Friday), that's pretty much the routine.

My question: Are we lame?

We usually go to bed between 10-11 and don't exactly go nuts on the weekend. I remember talking to another friend of mine (this one, a younger female colleague) about the night they captured those assclowns with the bombs.

"Even we went out last night," I said to her the next day. "You would have been proud. We didn't even go out until, like, 9:30."

"What time did you get home?" she asked.

"A little before 12."

"That," she said, "is when I went out."

My question, again: Are we lame?

We still go to concerts, still hang out with friends and family, and still go out for dinners. But we don't really care for bars. The idea of going to a local alehouse in Boston until 2 AM (like the good, old days!) is about as appetizing as eating seafood from Taco Bell. Crowds? No, thanks. Loud music? We'd rather not. Dancing? Ha.

To be honest, I'm not sure I even remember what a hangover feels like.

My question, one more time: Are we lame?

Now, of course, this has a fair amount to do with our little bundle of joy. She's due in 14 weeks, but she's already changed our lives in enormous ways. There is a lot of "can't" and "don't" in Bridget's life now, including booze and her beloved soft cheeses. Last year's vacations included Ireland, California, Colorado, France, and Mexico. This year? A full month of unimaginable sleep deprivation here in lovely Cambridge. (Tickets, I believe, are still available if you want to join us.)

So yeah, reading through all of this before I hit publish, we do seem pretty lame. But doesn't everyone eventually get lame? And doesn't lame, eventually, just turn into happiness?

I hope so because I really do like reading with my wife.

Our First Wedding Since Our Wedding

This past weekend, Bridget and I had the pleasure of attending a wedding in Breckenridge, Colorado. Bridget's childhood friend, Rebecca, and Bryan -- now known as the Applegates -- got hitched and, as you can see from the photo above, it was gorgeous. Like, absurdly gorgeous.

It was also the first wedding Bridget and I attended since we were married in March and, to my surprise, it was a whole different experience.

Every wedding is different, you say. Well, of course. Some are big. Some are small. Some are lame. Some are fun. (This one was.) Some are on the beach. Some are in a church. Right. Weddings are different. But this one was different because we had been through the experience. This time, it was sort of like having a backstage pass. Bridget and I could celebrate -- and sympathize -- like we never had before.

Three examples:
1. We saw Bryan right before the big moment. He was slowly sipping on a beer and trying to avoid seeing his soon-to-be bride. "You nervous?" Bridget asked. "Yeah, a little," he said. "Can you tell?" We could because he neglected to breathe as he spoke. Immediately, my mind went back to the moment before I saw Bridget when I was somewhere in between vomiting, passing out, and crying. I knew exactly how Bryan felt.

2. It briefly started raining during the outdoor ceremony. Now, obviously, no one likes rain during an outdoor wedding, but Bridget and I were the first ones to notice. We stared nervously at each other. "What if the sky opens up?" "Should we go get umbrellas?" "Do you think there's going to be a mudslide?" It sprinkled for a total of 30 seconds, but if you've been through a wedding, you know how important the weather is that day -- and how much you obsess over it.

3. They had trouble with their gift bags, too. The next day, while Bridget and I hiked a trail (pictured to the right) above Breckenridge (which, by the way, is the greatest town ever created), Becca called to say thank you. They chatted about pictures, eyelashes, and all sorts of girl things. And then they chatted about how the hotels made some mistakes with the gift bags. Bridget pointed out that we had the same issue and, immediately, my mind when back to that day when you were so concerned about every ... little ... detail ... going ... exactly ... the ... right ... way. Sure, it doesn't matter in the long run, but when a guest comes all that way and doesn't get their bottle of water, you're angry.

The wedding went off without a hitch -- as most do -- and beer, wine, and sighs of relief flowed freely into the night. But for a night, we were taken back to the amazing highs and the tiny lows. We have two more weddings this fall (congrats Kate and Kate, and Tim and Amanda) and we look forward to attending both. Along with attending, we'll be loudly celebrating and quietly commiserating, too.

To those couples and anyone else getting married this year, good luck with the damn gift bags.