Reporting back from staring at each other for a month, non-stop

Depending on the people involved and the nature of their relationship, a month-long vacation with one’s significant other can be a significant test. I’m proud to say that I only swore at Rogue Husband once – thank you Venice for being nigh un-navigable – and we only screamed at each other once – thank you Tuscan hill towns for terrifying driving conditions and narrow one-way streets.

I’m listening to this really interesting radio segment of the Bill Radke Treatment about travel and stress, and he’s got a psychologist on there saying travel is stressful for many vacationers because -

“People have rigid expectations about what travel is going to be all about for them. They’re not really comfortable in their own skin. So…when they have their trip they don’t really know what to do with themselves. Sitting in the beach chair can be uncomfortable for them, with uncomfortable feelings and thoughts they don’t know what to do with.

Turns out when people are in their daily lives they find great ways to distract themselves. They keep really busy. When you’re traveling, on vacation, nothing is happening and you notice things you’re not comfortable noticing.”

Considering there’s no bigger distraction than planning a wedding, and there’s no more expectation-filled vacation than a honeymoon, going on a month-long honeymoon with your partner might lead to some of those uncomfortable feelings and thoughts. But, for the most part, they didn’t. Even though we have been focused on the wedding for so long, it took no time at all to get back into our old rhythm of witty repartee (by which I mean insanely bad jokes seen through the lens of free booze in business class).

But, in all seriousness, we’re so freaking giddy not to be planning that wedding anymore that we could have honeymooned in Siberia with good humor (and Vodka). Some of my friends warned me of “Wedding Withdrawl” – describing the weeks after planning a wedding as something akin to PTSD, where your entire body and mind are still reacting as if they’re in wedding-mode, buzzing at high frequency. And other friends described their post-wedding mindset as depressed. Nothing big to look forward to. Like the day after Christmas.

These people are nuts.

FREEDOM is what this is. In fact, I have compiled a list of all the things I can do now that I’ve dislodged the nuptial albatross.

Ten Things I can do now that I’m not planning my wedding

10. Go to the movies – I’ve been meaning to see The Avengers and Snow White.
9. Read a book that isn’t A Practical Wedding.
8. Change my hair color and haircut. Red might be nice.
7. Go in the sun without worrying about developing a tank top tan.
6. Cook again. Pasta even. God I’ve missed pasta.
5. Focus more on The Bridal Kool-Aid Cocktail Hour podcast.
4. Sleep.
3. Eat.
2. Work, uninterrupted.
1. Spend time with my new husband.

I asked Rogue Husband why he thought going on a honeymoon was a good thing, other than needing a vacation. His response: “I suppose it gives you time to get used to wearing the ring so it doesn’t feel awkward.”

Sometimes you have to dig a little deeper into Man-Speak to draw out the real meaning. It’s not just the metal ring that feels  awkward dear, it’s the new life stage that the honeymoon allows us to ease into. My theory is that the honeymoon is a time in which outside stresses, other than those posed by Italian city planning, don’t exert themselves over the couple, which allows them to focus on transitioning from the singular to the plural.

Rogue Husband also had this to say about Honeymooning:

“The honeymoon surrounds the moment of commitment with a padding of wonderful memories, like doing something you wouldn’t have done without the other person there; focusing on what your partner allows you to do and brings out in you – what they add to who you are and how you live.”

Lovely thought right? True too. One of those things Rogue Husband and I were surprised to find ourselves doing was swimming in an alpine lake beneath Neuschwanstein castle in Bavaria – in our underwear. That’s one for the future grandkids.