My reaction to seeing C in her dress

We got hitched!

It was a Friday afternoon—bright and cold, with a cloudless blue sky—when our small group headed to San Francisco City Hall for the ceremony; my brother had flown in from the UK for the first time and we’d spent the week prior walking around and doing touristy things like going to Alcatraz; some friends had driven up from southern California or travelled across the bridge; C’s family came over from the Outer Sunset, with her sister translating everything during the ceremony.

C wore a beautiful dress that she’d retrofitted, adding a veil that trailed behind her and ten thousand other adjustments and tweaks that she would never brag about but I certainly will.

The night before, with our pal, we stayed up late working on the boutonnières and the bouquet. It was here that I discovered my incomprehensible, unfathomable ignorance when it comes to flower arrangement. I thought it would be just like graphic design where you move contrasting shapes and colors, arrange a space into something comprehensible. IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF PLANTS, MATE.

But there’s a hierarchy of flowers—rules and regulations to their placement—that’s invisible to me. So our pal saved the day with her eye for details like that.

My wedding suit; a forest green three piece

I could write ten thousand words about this three piece suit from Tailor’s Keep and the joy of watching the amazing folks who made it. Just like the flowers, I discovered that there’s so much to learn when it comes to wearing a suit! The way that a jacket should compliment your body, the way that a shirt should show just a bit of sleeve underneath, and how you can add details to it that no-one else can see. Just for kicks.

Like on the inside of this jacket, where if you peel it back you’ll find a shimmering gold pattern that looks like the ceiling of a chateau.

During the ceremony, as my brother passed the rings over to the officiant, someone goofed the hand-off and one of the rings tumbled to the floor. Everyone in the our group gasped and then broke into awkward laughter. “5 second rule,” I whispered to C as she hastily picked it up and gave it to me.

We took our vows and then bolted for the exit.

Next? The Interval, the home of the Long Now Foundation, and an astonishing bar on the tip of the Marina with drinks that are far too good in a forgettable-oh-no-I-have-drunk-too-much sort of way. Our friends joined us, cheered for us, took pictures by the water, and a grand total of zero speeches were given (as it should be).

At the Interval, where a group of people surround us both and cheers us with drinks held high.