Even My Wedding Night Ended In Pain

Yesterday I told you how my wife tricked me into falling in love with her by maiming me.  Today I will regale you with a tale of how I nearly cripple both of us.  Much of this tale will seem as though it is about to become R-rated, but I am hopeful of telling it in a manner that assures I remain on the family friendly side of the fence.

 

Hands up if your wedding night was memorable.

 

But is your memory of pleasure or pain?

 

Mine is about pleasurable pain – or is that painful pleasure.

 

Everything was what I consider normal during our courtship.  The first date was September 14, 1990 – Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Tom Cruise movie.  We enjoyed many similar outings during the subsequent 12 months.  We had a great time, and hardly maimed each other after that first little episode.

 

The engagement

 

We decided during July or August that we would get married.  We spoke to her father and he didn’t try to shoot me.  We then set about arranging two engagement parties.  Yes two.  One for the relatives and a separate one for friends – on consecutive weekends.  I can’t remember whether the relatives or the friends were first but it was September 14, 1991.  The same date as our first date.  How romantic. 

 

Our first date was a Friday.  The engagement was a Saturday.  We wanted the wedding to be the same date the next year but it fell on a Monday so we decided to move it to the next weekend.  But that weekend was the start of spring school holidays.  We didn’t want to be honeymooning with a beach full of other people’s children so we bumped the date another two weeks to the end of the holidays. 

 

The wedding plans

 

I have 3 sisters.  My wife has 3 brothers.  Based on tradition this was the only free wedding my parents would be involved in.  Similarly, this was the only wedding that my new in-laws would have to pay for.  We invited every living relative from both sides.  And most of our friends.  Many of the relatives lived over a thousand miles away, including some overseas, so we were expecting about 50-60% attendance.  I had one uncle who couldn’t raise the airfare from New Zealand.  Aside from him, 99.3% attendance was achieved.  This was going to be a big wedding. 

 

Our local church was under construction, having resided in the local community hall for decades.  We booked the yet to be finished church, but we also booked another church 15 miles away (and closer to the restaurant where the reception was to be held) just in case, as the community hall would not stand, let alone sit, the numbers we were expecting.

 

The wedding

 

I think I lost about 5 pounds on the wedding day through sweat alone (fairly normal).  Everything went like clockwork.  The bride was (only) 15 minutes late.  We were down at the beach by 5pm for photos and at the restaurant by 6pm.  We managed to pack 114 people into a restaurant licensed for 95.  The first $1500 on the bar disappeared in a flash.  The second $1500 lasted until about 8pm.  The third $1500 never got finished.  Even with all that consumption there wasn’t a single scuffle.  There wasn’t even a drunk, distant relative heckling during the speeches. 

 

I nearly starved that night.  The bridal party was served dinner at our table and then the guests were set loose on the buffet.  Our plates were piled high with a range of seafood and salad.  The first thing I grabbed (family friendly remember) was a crab claw.  I grasped it in both fists and tried to snap it towards me like a twig.  It shattered and in the follow-through I stabbed part of the shell into the fleshy part of my thumb – DEEP.  Blood.  Pain.  I was crippled.  I couldn’t hold anything with my right hand for the rest of the night.

 

It was a standard wedding.  We danced.  We talked.  We drank.  We ate (well, not me).  We opened gifts.  At about 10:30pm everyone formed a circle for us to say farewell.  112 hugs, handshakes and quick conversations later we were ready to go.  Out and into the car which had been vandalised (in a traditional wedding manner) with shaving cream, confetti, streamers and condoms. 

 

We drove away, relieved that we were finally alone after a very long, high-pressure day.  We were grinning like a newly married couple.  How clichéd. 

 

Here comes the naughty bit

 

The hotel we were staying the first night of our honeymoon was only 3 miles away.  It was a beautiful clear night.  Our room was about 4 or 5 floors up and overlooking the water.  We kicked off our shoes and I opened a bottle of champagne.  We sipped and smiled and chatted on the balcony.

 

Eventually it was time to “be married”.  We put our champagne flutes down and I swept my beautiful new bride up in my arms.  I turned towards the bedroom and as we left the balcony and entered the unit I walked straight into a glass-top coffee table. 

 

I somehow managed to NOT drop her through the table.  The pain was amazing.  The wedding night stopped right there.  Out came the ice-pack and pain killers.  It was nearly 3 hours before my shins (yes both) stopped throbbing enough for me to get to sleep. 

 

The hero gets his girl

 

We were “married” early the next day and are still happily married to this very day.  I am certain this one is a life sentence.  Lock me up and throw away the coffee table.

 

Post script

 

When viewing the wedding photo I beg you to make concessions for the fact that it was the very early ‘90s when appraising the hair style.  nikared is a sadist and wanted photos of my very special hair style.  Remember, he is from Idaho, so please feel free to give him grief about how “current” that style is in his neighbourhood to this very day.

 

 


My Wedding Day

3 October 1992

January 1993

The Mullet

January 1993

Post-mullet

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54 Responses to Even My Wedding Night Ended In Pain

  1. Mrs. David says:

    Ahwww… what a sweet/painful story! What happened? January 1991 it looks like you took care of the mullet problem…but then it looks like it came back before your wedding!I remember those particular years quite well because my groom and I were getting hitched in March of ’91 and I don’t remember anyone wearing hair like that then! Maybe we were not "current" with trendy hair like you. I can say with confidence that I am now; have you seen my ‘do? Nice Tux!~sia

  2. a says:

    MIKE: grow the mullet back before you come visit. they are super popular in the States again. seriously. i’m thinking you would need to start regrowing it now to really fit in, so get on it.in regards to your honeymoon night action (or lack thereof): you mean to tell me a guy that wrecks as badly as you did in the velodrome story, and comes back wanting to race later that day, couldn’t perform b/c he hurt his shins???<sadly shakes his head as he exits the room>

  3. Tom Stormcrowe says:

    All I can say, is OUUUUUUUCH! Mike, I’m shocked and dismayed! Never heard of such things!::GRIN:: By the way, my wife finally got her own blog today! http://craftymrsstormcrowe.blogspot.com and I think you’ll approve of the profile pic!

  4. Unknown says:

    Wonderful story, Mike! Thanks so much for sharing the story and the pictures. My daughter’s wedding pain story involved a wonderful free trip with first class accommodations in Hawaii. First day she wore a thong bathing suit and blistered her bum, thus preventing whoopee that night. The following morning, new hubby came down with flu or food poisoning or something. But they finally managed to "marry" and now have three boys and a solid marriage, like you. So maybe there is something to the "suffering" experience that binds people together.And if I were your wife, I could NEVER be mad at someone who, in the midst of his own searing pain, managed NOT to drop me through a glass table. I fell through one once and it’s not the greatest experience.Hugs,MuMo

  5. BIg Mike In Oz says:

    Unintelligentsia – thanks, I fixed the date. I was always lagging behind in the fashion stakes.nikared – isn’t it funny that rednecks can’t have red necks because their hair covers it thus stopping the sun from burning it and making it red. Short term abstinence was a long term investment, you can’t buy that much sympathy.Stormcrowe – I seem to recall my exclamation was significantly more colourful than OUUUUUUUCH! And congrats on the new member of the family (baby blog).MuMo – maybe there must be pain in a marraige, and if you don’t get it at the start, you get it later and it causes the end.

  6. Nina says:

    But what about Laurent Brochard – the fastest mullet on 2 wheels?!http://www.ag2r-cyclisme.com/images/laurent-brochard.jpg

  7. cosmogrl says:

    Nikared: hilarious stuff–but shame on you, man! Mike: I’m a cosmetologist–trust me–fear the mullet. Ok, I’m afraid I don’t have a nightmarish honeymoon story to share…..but I DO have an interesting courtship story which I will blog sometime in the near future. I do have to say though, kudos for not dropping your wife through the table–that would’ve been bad……

  8. Big Guy on a Bicycle says:

    I started my wedding night in pain already. Actually, the pain started two weeks earlier when I dislocated my shoulder playing racquetball with friends. Regardless of that, we didn’t even get a chance to be "married" that night. The reception went late into the evening, followed by a small get-together with family at my parents’ house to send us off, followed by driving 4 hours to the Atlanta airport to catch a 6am flight to Cancun, only to discover that my passport was still at my parents’ house (I think that was my brother’s idea of a practical joke – none of the rest of us found it remotely funny). My parents had to get up at 5am, dig out a copy of my birth certificate, drive to a hotel that had a fax machine (back in the old days before every home had them), and send it to the ticket agent at the airport who, as luck would have it, was also a notary-public. She notarized my birth certificate and I was finally allowed on the plane with 5 minutes to spare. By the time we got to the condo in Cancun, we were exhaused, our nerves were frazzled, and my shoulder was sore as anything, but we got "married" as soon as we got to the room anyway. And then promptly went to sleep for the next 16 hours.

  9. Laura says:

    Mike’s lesson of the day in Americanisms,A’ redneck’ is tradionally from the southeast section of the United States, area’s formally involved on the losing side of the Civil War. Nikared is technically not a redneck… he would in a lower classification, (similar to caveman I think…).

  10. Big Guy on a Bicycle says:

    Hmm. It isn’t often that I step in to defend someone perfectly capable of defending himself, but I know a few things about rednecks as I live – and grew up – in the area typically thought of as "The Redneck (in)Breeding Ground". That being said, I have been in a lot of different places and have met many fine and proud folks who rightly consider themselves to be rednecks. I even found rednecks living near me during the two years I spent in Northern Maine, though they talked a bit funny for rednecks. I today’s increasingly global society, redneck is truly a state of mind.I, for one, am willing to give nikared the benefit of the doubt.

  11. Unknown says:

    Enjoyed the read lol

  12. Laura says:

    I stopping by before I head to bed here on the east coast to give you a quick comment of encrougement on your studies for the next day… and I see I have been gentlely scolded…(and righty so…. tail between my webbed toes… ) I’ll keep my verbal jabbings with Nikared over in my space… I like rednecks Reallly; live in redneckville, I work for one… my brother could almost be one… he’s a Yupper, but that’s another blog entry…:-[

  13. Ariane says:

    Owie…. I’m betting that you were probably moving pretty quickly too… eesh. I hate walking into things. Not that I walk into things often… (I blame poor peripheral vision). But, I mean, on a bike, I can expect to be injured if I am going to be putzing about off-road. I can deal. But if I’m not prepared to suddenly be shy a toenail, all hell is about to brak loose. Wow, I’m really tired. Too tired to go back and fix "brak," even. ….enghk…. I’m done with the history paper…. now onto the env sci …..gahhhhhhhhhhh. Look at the time at the bottom of this comment… then adjust for the difference….o’ the humanity.

  14. BIg Mike In Oz says:

    ninacan – with drugs everywhere in sport I wouldn’t be surprised if the Brochard-do failed a mullet-performance enhancing drug test.cosmogrl33 – the hair is still most of the way down my back. However, now it sprouts there rather than hanging down there. Too much information?? Sorry!Big Guy – if you were truly motivated (I mean riding in the snow motivated) you could have found 5 minutes and a quiet corner.TheLilacPenguin – would a redneck by any other name smell just as sickly sweet? If they like beer, pick-ups and hunting more than women and surfing they’re a redneck (by definition if not by geography).Big Guy – by Jeff Foxworthy’s definition you can live anywhere and be a redneck.TheLilacPenguin – if you even once just thought the word "yeehaw" to yourself your a redneck.Toad – I was moving enthusiastically. I find the best rest comes in the recliner in the middle of the day with a text book in my lap.

  15. Fat Cyclist says:

    i dunno, big mike. i’m thinking that maybe you should’ve let it grow and grow and grow. just think, as you went bald, you could’ve swept it over the top of your head, creating a very dashing back-to-front combover.

  16. Big Guy on a Bicycle says:

    Big Mike,A quiet corner? In the Atlanta Airport?LilacPenguin,I’m sorry, but I guess that sounded a little more severe in print than I ever mean for it to. I was possibly still reacting to certain other events on my mind from earlier yesterday evening (my post later today may help clear that up). I’m truly sorry if I harshed your mellow.

  17. Unknown says:

    I’m totally speechless. It’s as if i’ve seen something so horrible, so terrible, so horrifyingly horrific, that all thought processes were halted for self protection.No, it’s not your wedding picture, it’s the mental image of that mullet floating in the wind behind a BIG NEKKID MIKE running toward the bed, carrying his beautiful bride.Bothced

  18. Unknown says:

    Oh, the humanity! The horror… The horror…

  19. BIg Mike In Oz says:

    Fatty – a comb-over of that magnitude would need it’s own zip code. BGOAB – relatively quiet… if you were motivated enough.Botched – I’m glad I’ve found the trigger… LISTEN UP EVERYBODY, IF YOU WANT TO KEEP BOTCED QUIET REMIND HIM ABOUT MY MULLET!Al – should I have photoshopped myself into a pick-up so the haircut didn’t look so out of place (indoors y’know)?

  20. Unknown says:

    You have a good point about the pickup truck. I drive a pickup, and could wear a mullet and fit in. I happen to wear very short hair, and probably always will, but I look fine in the truck. My lifelong goal is to be a 70 year old, mean-ass drunk guy with a flat top and a busted nose. I’ve always liked mean old bastards like that, so it’s what I’m shooting for. I got the busted nose, I’m drunk when I have the time, and I’m occasionally mean-ass. So if I can make it to 70 without inadvertantly capping myself, or the grim reaper coming along to lop off my thick skull, I’ll probably still drive a pickup truck. That’s the good thing about pickups – you can be a mullet wearing Ozzie, a northeastern redneck city-billy, or a lesbian, and you look perfectly natural in a pickup truck. It’s a great ve-hickle. Now that ’77 Camaro, you can only drive that providing you have a mullet. I think there’s a law about that.

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