Diary of a Mad Bride (20 page)

J
ust when I thought things couldn't get any more complicated, overwhelming, or confusing…

I HAVE A SEX DREAM ABOUT MY CONGA-DRUM-PLAYING, EXCEEDINGLY HANDSOME, EX-BOYFRIEND RICK!

In exactly three months and nine days I'm committing to be with Stephen for the rest of my natural life, and here I am dreaming about Rick playing my bare bottom like a conga drum of love
while riding a Ferris wheel at Coney Island
?!

I
am totally freaked by my Rick sex dream. After he played my bare bottom he played the rest of me. For
hours.

Really well.

I don't know what to do. I have to talk to someone about this, but who can I tell? I feel so dirty and guilty and ugh!

I can't stop calling Stephen.

ME

Hi, honey. It's me. I love you. I love you so much. I really, really do.

STEPHEN

Is something wrong?

ME

No! Why would you say that? How could anything ever be wrong between us?

STEPHEN

I didn't necessarily mean between us.

ME

Oh. Well, nothing's wrong.

STEPHEN

Then why have you called me thirteen times today?

ME

No reason. I just want you to know I love you. Very much. More than any other man in the entire world.

STEPHEN

Is it “that” time of the month?

ME

No!

STEPHEN

Then tell me what's going on. If our marriage is going to work we'll have to learn to communicate.

Clearly something's bothering you.

ME

Ah—

STEPHEN

Wait a minute. I know what this is about.

ME

You do?!

STEPHEN

This is about sleeping arrangements, isn't it?

ME

Ohmygod! It's meaningless. I swear!

STEPHEN

Amy, relax. If I'd known that my not sleeping over would upset you this much, I never would have done it.

ME

Huh?

STEPHEN

I just wanted a few nights of solid sleep without you tossing and turning every twenty minutes. But forget it. It's not worth putting you through all this agony.

ME

Ooh. Yeah. The agony.

STEPHEN

I'll just start sleeping over again.

ME

Great. Wait. No! I'm still having trouble sleeping.

Let's wait until I figure things out.

W
hat am I going to do? The last thing I want is to have sex dreams about other guys while I'm in bed with Stephen.

Ewwwee.

After months of insomnia and praying for sleep I'm now terrified to close my eyes lest some silken ex-lover suddenly appears. What if these dreams never stop? Do Stephen and I sleep separately for the rest of our lives? Do I buy twin beds? That means new sheets. Sheets are expensive!

L
ast night it was Jonas. The abstract-expressionist. He was working with oils and I was his canvas. He didn't stop working until he got it right.
Really
right. And to think I was upset by those dreams where I forgot to invite my mother to the wedding. Those were Disney productions compared to these EXTRAVAGANZAS OF THE FLESH!

Needless to say, Barry was the last person I wanted to see when I arrived at the office. “Are your articles ready? The Division meeting's in less than ten minutes and we still have to distribute your proofs.”

I couldn't take it. “Bite me, Barry! Just bite me!” The entire office went silent. Even Barry was speechless.

I think it's time to seek help.

I
'm calling Mandy and Anita. Somewhere between yin and yang there must be a voice of reason. Or at least knowledge of how to procure strong pharmaceutical drugs without a prescription.

I
convened an emergency meeting at Frutto di Sole.

ME

There's something important I need to talk about. But first you have to swear that you won't repeat a word of this conversation.

MANDY

Sounds exciting. Is that why you've gone incognito?

ME

What?

MANDY

Your outfit. The quiet black suit, the silk scarf wrapped around your neck, the dark sunglasses. Hello! Amy, we're indoors.

ANITA

You don't like it? I think it's sexy. Very Sophia Loren.
³²

ME

That's great. Now will you both shut up and swear to secrecy so I can get on with it?
³³

ANITA

I swear.

MANDY

So do I.

ME

This means total secrecy. No telling your hairdresser or coworkers, no matter how much they plead. And under no circumstances may you ever mention this to your significant other.

MANDY

I assume you're referring to Jon.
³⁴

ME

Yes.

MANDY

And exactly what do you have against Jon?

ME

Nothing.
³⁵
It's just a formality. Now swear.

MANDY

I swear. But this better be good.

I hunched down and lowered my voice. You never know who could be listening.

ME

I've been having sex dreams about old boyfriends.

MANDY

That's horrible!

ANITA

Are you kidding? That's great!

ME

Anita, I'm getting married in three months. I'm not supposed to be having sex dreams about other men. What am I going to do?

ANITA

You're going to sleep as much as humanly possible. Just because you're getting married doesn't mean you shut your mind off. And these dreams don't mean you don't love Stephen. After all, haven't you agreed to subjugate your entire existence to him on June 22nd?

MANDY

Oh, please. Amy's right to be worried. It's a dangerous thing when a woman dreams about having sex in a sauna with a man other than her husband.

ME

Who said anything about a sauna?

MANDY

Oh…Well, I was just illustrating what type of sex dream a person
might
have were she dreaming on a fairly regular basis about adulterous encounters.

ME

I see.

ANITA

I can't believe you guys are being so puritanical about this.

MANDY

It's not puritanical. It's practical. You can't fully give yourself to one man when you're dreaming about another.

ANITA

But dreams are harmless. Besides, maybe those dreams weren't really about sex. Maybe they were a symbolic gesture. A way of saying good-bye to past lovers.

MANDY

I never thought about that!
³⁶

ME

Terrific. But how many times do I have to say good-bye?

I
had another sex dream. About
JON.

And I was
into
it. Now, in addition to being unfaithful, I'm desperate!

Yuck!

M
y first dress fitting with Katrina. She's straightened and cropped the sleeves to a three-quarter length, which has eliminated all traces of
Godspell.

But I still look like Nellie Olsen after a nasty tumble down a well.

Katrina kept shaking her head mournfully as if the situation were terminal. You'd think for $500 she'd have a better bedside manner.

I'm finally beginning to understand why the Moonies opt for massive group weddings. No caterer, no band, no bridesmaids. And in a group of a thousand brides, who's going to notice your dress?

M
y day was going so well. I'd only had a brief sex dream about my eleventh-grade boyfriend, Denny, found a florist, and gotten a compliment on my June story ideas from Mr. Spaulding. Then Barry opened his mouth. “So what type of invitations are you sending out? Modern or traditional?”

The kind that doesn't have your name on it,
Barry.
Poor moron. Like getting rid of me is going to be that easy.
One day she got married, and Poof! She was gone.
I wish he'd give it a rest.

“I really haven't thought about it.”

“You mean you haven't ordered them?”

“Nope.”

“But you're getting married in three months and two days.
³⁷
When my friend Denise got married she ordered
her invitations months in advance. And F.Y.I.—they were stunning. Dusty rose, thirty-two-thousand linen-bond paper printed with apple-red ink and tissue inserts. I'd be happy to get the printer's name and number if you'd like.”

Great. And how about pushing me into oncoming traffic while you're at it. “Thanks but no thanks, Barry. I'll be fine.”

Or will I? Maybe Barry was onto something.
³⁸

I immediately called Mandy, who flipped out. “What do you mean you haven't ordered your invitations? Didn't you read Chapter Thirty-four of
Beautiful Bride
?”

“I started to skim around Thirty-one.”

“This is your wedding! You can't skim. There's no skimming in matrimony!”

I was a basket case for the rest of the day. What had I done? Here I thought the scales of bridal calamity had finally balanced out. Maybe all wasn't great, but at least it was placid. And now this.

I ran home after work and turned to Chapter Thirty-four. The more I read the quicker my pulse raced. According to
BB
, invitations must be sent out approximately six weeks before the wedding: not so far in advance that people forget, but early enough for them to clear their schedule. Add to that an average of two months to print invitations, make the necessary corrections, address and mail them. Six weeks plus two months. At this rate, my wedding invitations have to be ordered
last
week!

The apocalypse must be near—because Barry was right.

P
anicked about our invitation dilemma, I decided to call Stephen at work. It was only 5
P.M.
but he'd been working since seven in the morning and I could tell he was tired and distracted. So it was no surprise when instead of offering some advice he lamely suggested I ask my mother for help.

Pass the buck much,
Stevie
?

A
lthough I'd been civil to Stephen during our earlier ph one call I felt bad about all the hostile things I'd said in my head. After all, he's been working like a dog. Of course he's distracted. I decided to call him at home and tell him how much I love him. Between his late nights at the office, my being overwhelmed with wedding details, and our current separate sleeping arrangements, we'd barely seen each other this month.

But Stephen wasn't home. So I called his office.

After six rings he finally answered the phone. But before I could say “hello” I heard Louise giggling in the background. It was almost midnight and they'd been in that office together since 7
A.M.
What the hell was she
giggling
about?

Unable to come up with an acceptable answer, I hung up.