Oh My Hero...
But it hasn't all been hassle and fuss. Of all the to-dos on our list, planning the ceremony itself has actually been the easy part.
We're not particularly religious, so we don't have to find a priest or a rabbi. And we both hate long speeches and poetry, so we can skip the sermonizing. We've even agreed on the music: Instead of "Canon in D Major," we're using a processional of "Aria di Mezza Carattere." Yes, the Opera House song from Final Fantasy VI.
Because it just wouldn't be our wedding without that song.
My relationship with G. can be measured out in the games we've played together. In some sense, we are the games we've played. Those memory cards and save states capture so many shared memories, and each game on our shelf evokes old sounds, familiar aromas and common smiles.
For example, Resident Evil 0 takes me back to hot and sticky summer nights, which we spent making burritos and shouting at his neighbors from the balcony, lounging in fold-up chairs as the evenings grew heavy and low. Katamari Damacy reminds me of an ice storm from 2003, and the many ways we stayed warm. And Jak and Daxter brings me back to my first apartment, where I had no couch, no table, not even chairs - just a 13-inch TV and a purple bean bag in which we snuggled and kissed, and together hunted for Precursor orbs.
And then there's Final Fantasy VI. The first game we ever played together. The game to which I fell in love.
I even remember the exact moment: the Opera House. The play within a play. The tinny, synthetic voices; the warbling MIDI orchestra. Celes in a white gown, snaking through the pillars, stretching her arms wide as she sang and waltzed on the flagstones with a ghost. The romance within a romance, the bleeding of fiction and reality - and then that final bouquet toss, and the silent wink of the star behind her. It was such tender, beautiful moment.
As I cuddled next to G., inhaling his warm, grassy scent, wiping away a few stray tears, I remember finally understanding why he'd been begging me to play the game for months. I felt entranced, impressed that he so highly treasured something so unabashedly romantic, just for its own sake and deeply touched that he'd wanted to share it with me. That's when I began to suspect that there was something more to him, something more to this - something that might take a lifetime to figure out.
That's why I want to include "Aria di Mezza Carattere" in our wedding. If a wedding is a public declaration of your common identity, then we'd be remiss not to include what brought us together in the first place.
It comes down to this: A wedding is more than the sum of its bouquets and chapel trains. It's an expression of who we are and who we want to become. And this is the identity that I want to forge together. One of happy memories and continued surprises; of waking up everyday impressed by the person laying next to me; of continuous discovery, collaboration and shared adventure.
If I can remember all that, then Mr. Toad can keep his teacup. We won't need it. The wedding planning will remain just another fetch quest, and I've been doing those in my videogames since I was 8 years old.
And maybe, once this wedding is over with, I'll have the time to do it again.
Lara Crigger is a freelance science, tech and gaming journalist and frequent contributor to The Escapist. Her email is lcrigger[at]gmail[dot]com.
