4,5,6,7 and 8

And I am all done with the wedding/ceremony site hunting.
The boy comes to town in 5 days and we make final decision about place. Exciting. Exciting.

There are so many things I am discovering about myself with this process.
I always suspected I may not be the laid back, anythig goes person, what wit the genes of the highly organized, highly efficient, crazily anal father.
But really, I am almost scared now of how crazy I can get.
After all my cruises on self-pity liner about having to do this on my own, I snapped at the Boy's offer to contact vendor.
"Don't call. Don't UPSET my vendors"
And despite roomie's numerous offers to help, I find myself bristling at the thought of being not-in-charge of even a minimal event at wedding.
The other day, I almost sympathized with the crazy Bridezillas on WE. And nothing screams too much than that.

And this whole wedding site hunting. I think when I saw no.3, I had a 'Ah, yes this is it. this is really it' feeling.
There was a sense of coming home and comfortability and all that. Kind of the feeling I got when I first met the Boy.
When I first went up the driveway to no.3, I felt like a bit like Darrel Rivers coming to Mallory Towers.
Which is not far from the truth, since it used to be a Catholic girls' high school.
And the Chapel at no.3, all I can say is it's made from my dreams. It's that perfect.
And, most perfect of all, I didn't get lost on my way to it.
And, it has a nice Indian Restaurant next door, so I guess catering is easy.
And everything just screams 'for me' to me.

And I still searched for more. Because maybe there was something out there which was better, more economical, more fabulous.
And I went to on to see numbers 4,5,6,7, and 8.
And disliked all of them instantly.

Funky smell. Gaudy colours. Outrageous rules. too dark. Too bright. Too not No.3.

3 years ago, I kind of broke down under the guilt of being with a non-malayalee, non-christian boy and not living up to my dad's expectations. And broke up with the boy and moved far, far away to the big apple city for a while. And it was painful and hurt like heck. And disliked everybody I met instantly.

Really, the memory of the perfect-for-you-thing lingers in your brain and taints everything else forever.
Because even enough, I thought I wanted a more conventional place, a more wow factor setting or a more expensive locale,
The perfect-for-me-thing had settled in my brain.
it was as if there was only that one thing for me.
Or its as if my brain had hidden a prototype of the perfect-for-me thing and when I had seen/met/found it, it
Clicked!!!

So even when you try to leave it or run away from it into the Ritz Carlton, your brain's going to emit a 'Funky smell. Gaudy colours. Outrageous rules. too dark. Too bright. Too not No.3. ' out at you.
Because really NO.3 clicks you the best.