by the bootstraps, then:

ok, so I’m pretty bummed-out about this whole “apartment” thing.

and about this whole “honeymoon” thing. and about this whole “wedding” thing.

Not the wedding and honeymoon and apartment themselves, but the money that it takes to get there.

I always assumed that by the time I got married I’d have some shit figured out, like, I’d have a 401k or a really nice car or an apartment with an oven or something. But here I am, getting married, and despite my very best efforts I have no retirement account, my car is crap on wheels, and i live in an efficiency apartment with a plug-in range and a mini-fridge. Recently I’ve been living under the delusion that somehow everything was magically arranging itself since Katsumi and I became engaged – we both got new jobs which increase our net pay substantially, and because of my parents’ sublime generosity, we don’t have to shoulder the cost of the wedding. And, hey! Wedding! You get money for those, right?

The problem is, we need money NOW. to get this great nice huge apartment that we’ve both fallen madly in love with, we’d have to come up with three grand. We don’t have three grand. Not without selling plasma or liquidating every penny of savings we have. (“we” read “I”, because Katsumi’s employer-sponsored retirement account doesn’t allow for “shit i need rent money” emergency withdrawals.)

Moreover, I’ve already been freaking out because how the hell are we going to pay for the honeymoon? Or the rehearsal dinner? Or the pampering and gifts for my FIVE TO SEVEN BRIDEMAIDS? Can you withdraw from a 401k for “fucking christ i need wedding money” emergencies?

Somehow, I think not.

This morning, after waking up an hour early and worrying my way into a frenzy, I went to make a pot of coffee and realized I was out of java. Then I got into the shower and cried for 20 minutes because I was scared to pay two bucks for a cup-to-go. And as I said to Sabominator in an email earlier today (sorry for the repeat rant, my friend), I’m not a crier.

I have an appointment to look at wedding dresses tonight, and I’m going by myself. Last week I thought that it would be cathartic – a blessed relief from the tide of opinion I’ve been riding for the past few months. Now the thought of slipping into two thousand dollars worth of tulle and satin makes me want to vomit, because two grand isn’t even a drop in the bucket compared to our combined debt, and two grand won’t even pay for half of our honeymoon.

So, sorry for the downer, guys, I hope I can come up with something snarkier soon. In the meantime, I’m going to walk around outside my building and panhandle until I have enough dirty quarters for an ice cream cone with sprinkles. And then I might cry some more.

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