Ensemble, Events + Entertainment, Food

Fun City

A couple of weeks ago,

on a random Tuesday,

Brian and I decided to apply for our marriage license.

We entered City Hall –

I, happily dressed in a vintage sequin number

and he, in a jacket and jeans.

Photographed by: Weddings by Nato

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First of all, let me just say that the particular part of City Hall where people get married is probably the happiest government building I’ve ever been to.

Second of all, I’ve never been married before (and I HATE paperwork with the passion of a thousand suns) so this whole thing was really confusing.

We waited for one of the counters to call our number.

A076? A077? A078.

Finally.

“Did you fill out the form online?”

“Form of ID please.”

*clicketty clack*

“Check to make sure that the Husband’s info is correct on the screen.”

“Check to make sure that the Wife’s info is correct on the screen”

(Brian mistakenly filled out my gender as male.)

*clicketty clack*

“It should be correct now.”

“Sign here, please.”

“Okay, you have 60 days to come back for the ceremony. Thank you.”

I walked away from the counter with a huge grin on my face.

Brian and I looked at each other – is that it?

As we sauntered towards the exit,

I saw a guy who looked like he knew how to work a camera and asked him to snap a photo of us.

Of course, he fumbled around for the correct setting on manual

(it’s on auto and we are not fussy, but thank you for caring)

In the middle of his fumbling and while surrounded by the excited crowd,

by the couple who decided to wear leather and boots,

by the mother proudly taking a photo of her daughter in her bridal gown and sparkly sneakers,

by the bride in her sleek white dress,

and by the huge bridal party with their photographers,

my eyes started to well up.

How fucking crazy that 12 years would lead to this?

I didn’t really care if we were married or not –

That particular formality never mattered to me.

But I’d be lying if I said that the prospect of marrying the love of my life didn’t make me deliriously happy.

He saw my face and started tearing up too.

Then we looked back at our makeshift photographer and both giggled as he finally snapped a pic.

We were walking out of the building and heading for brunch at Maman when I looked at him.

“So, are we married?”

“I don’t know… I just told our moms and your sister that we are though.”

We Googled it during brunch.

We’re not married yet.

Does it matter though?

Afterwards, we went to Fun City Tattoos on St. Mark’s for our finger tatts and then had juicy bao & curry fries in Chinatown. As one does.

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