Weddings are an opportunity to bask in the glory of loves communion, so when my boyfriend invited me to his cousins wedding, I saw this as a big step in our relationship.  It was to be held on Block Island, and since I would be meeting his entire family, I felt the need to make an impression.  I picked out a gorgeous new dress in shimmering brown satin, paired it with my brown snake skin heels, and gold accessories to match.  I felt elegant and chic.   
          We arrived at the hotel the night before, and joined everyone on the beach for an old fashioned clam bake.  The drinks were flowing, as the introductions commenced.  I plastered on my most dazzling smile as we moved from cousin to aunt to brother and so on.  Each time my boyfriend left my side, I felt a little spark of panic, only to have it subside when one of his family members stepped in to make conversation.  The weather had cooled, being mid September, and noticing my chilly state my boyfriend purchased two sweat shirts.  These were the little acts of love that endeared him to me as my knight in shining armor.  As we walked back to the hotel in the black of night with only the stars to light our path, I felt an overwhelming sense of warmth as if I had been wrapped in a blanket made of love.
          After breakfast we returned to the hotel to prepare for the wedding.  Since alcohol is a depressant and we drank the night before, I was already in a slightly emotional state.  We showered and dressed, and when I presented the finished product to my boyfriend he smiled, kissed my cheek, and said I looked lovely.  As kind a response as that may seem, I was not thrilled with it.  I wanted an over the top “You look gorgeous!” and his less than jubilant reaction squashed my confidence.  In my brown dress, and with my lowered self esteem I made my way fortuitously to the bar.  The champagne began flowing, which honestly is one of the best reasons to go to a wedding.  One glass down and I felt as bubbly as the brut. 
          Weddings can be rather awkward when you’re the +1, since you really don’t know anyone and you have to pretend as if you are okay with that.  My boyfriend left to go and grab the camera, and I clung to my champagne glass as if it were a life raft on the titanic.  Two glasses down and I started to feel restless.  Topping off my third glass I made my way through the party like a ghost floating through a haunted house; everyone can feel your presence, but no one really sees you.  I felt a tad self conscious being alone, which is rare for me, since I’m a highly independent person.  My boyfriend came up from behind and said the ceremony would be starting soon, and we should make our way outside. 
          The sun was shining, but the cold had arrived and my bare arms and legs were prickled with goose bumps.  The wind whipped my hair out of it’s pristine up do, and with my lack of confidence, I was not feeling like myself.  The music began and everyone fixed their gaze on the door.  The bride was dressed in an old fashioned beaded white gown, and her make up was done to classic wedding perfection.  My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me, kissed my check and said he was going to take pictures.  As he moved away from me, my heart sank.  This was the moment that I wanted to share with him.  As cheesy as it may sound, I wanted that feeling of connection that you can only get when two people relate to a situation together.  In the fantasy of my mind, he would have wrapped his arms around me, kissed me lovingly, and given me that look that says I can’t wait to marry you.  In reality though, I was making the slow march towards catching the crazy.
          Like most of the women there I became bleary eyed and emotional, a state I can blame on both my big heart and the ever flowing champagne.   I usually let my emotions flow, knowing that they are tools to help me process life, but this time I held back the tears.  This was not for stoicism or pride, but rather for vanity.  I didn’t want my make up to run, so I held my face in a stony smile, as the crazy thoughts began to rise. Two voices began fighting each other in my head:
Why didn’t he say I looked amazing?
Maybe he doesn’t like the dress. 
I really wish he would just come back and be close to me. 
He’s only taking pictures, calm down! 
But I want him here now.  
Well then you shouldn’t have bought him a camera for his birthday! 
Don’t be absurd.  
This internal dialogue spirals me deeper into crazy, as we make our way to the buffet table.  Finding little comfort in the food, I reach once more for my best buddy bubbly in hopes of drowning out the raucous debate in my mind.  Sensing that I need some alone time, I tell my boyfriend I will be back and make my way to the garden.  Sitting quietly with my thoughts, I close my eyes and attempt to empower myself with positive feelings.  Suddenly a rush of noise and turmoil descends from all sides. 
“Pictures…Pictures every one. Into the garden please!” screams a shrill voice.
I open my eyes to see my boyfriend standing in front of me holding his camera. 
“Hey love!  Will you take some pictures for me?”
“Sure!”  I say with a half smile.
The whole family gathers together and the snapping commences.  Several other members of the family ask me to take pictures with their camera and I am happy to oblige.  It is only when his brother tells me to get in the picture that the crazy thoughts return.  “No that’s okay!”  I answer.  I am on the verge of losing it, so I excuse myself and adjourn to our room. I close the door and press up against it in tears. 
Why didn’t he ask me himself to be in the picture?
Maybe he doesn’t consider you family.
But I love him, and I think I want him to be my family.
Oh my god!  You’re seriously in love!
Ugh! I feel so vulnerable.
Listen missy.  It’s about time you admitted just how much you love this guy. 
I do.  I love him so much and… I want him to be my husband.
Whoa! Now you’re scaring both of us.
“I’m in love!  Okay.” I say to no one. 
As this realization dawns, a big, goofy smile stretches across my face.  He invited me to this wedding to introduce me to his whole family, and that was his first step toward making a commitment.  Now the ball is in my hands, and I am catching the crazy because it is my comfort zone.  I use it shield myself when I am faced with change.  Now is the time to change my pattern and face what has always scared me. “You are a child of love.  I want you to go back down there and face your fear of commitment.”  
          I find my boyfriend, and as he smiles my insides light up with the most divine feeling.  I wrap my arms around him and kiss him gently on the lips.  “Thank you for sharing this day with me.  You mean the world to me.”   He squeezes me tighter and says I love you.  This was a better connection than I had ever imagined, and all I had to do was stop catching the crazy and start facing the love.