It’s been hitting me for a year, but it’s only really started hitting me over the last few weeks. I mean, really sinking in: I’m getting married.

When I was 9 years old, I was playing in my grandfather’s backyard in Pico Rivera. I was making mud pies – not because I necessarily liked mud, but because I felt that it was something kids should do and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Conclusion? It was dirty. Mom called me to the house and as I ran towards the door, a thought flashed into my brain: I’ll never get married. I stopped dead in my tracks and wondered why I’d thought that. At 9, I was already fairly perceptive and knew that it was strange for a 9 year old to have such thoughts. However, being 9, I quickly wiped it from my mind and went about the rest of my day. Thing is, it stuck with me.

Not that I let this thought control my future or decide how I should live my life. Nor did I look upon it as a premonition. Strange thing is, it still pops into my head when I think about getting married – yet, here I am, 16 days to go, getting married – 9 year old me be damned.

What does any of that mean? Nothing.

When I tell people I’m getting married, they all congratulate me and tell me how much fun I must be having. They’re only half right. While all this massive amounts of planning has it’s high points, it’s also filled with a great deal of anxiety and dread. Not for the man I’m marrying, but for the large scale event that we are undertaking. We’re talking at least 150 people (maybe less), out-of-towners, people I haven’t seen in years, family, friends, dressing up, looking good, making speeches, dancing in front of a crowd, talking in front of a crowd, social graces, being wonderful, and not freaking out. Except, all that makes me freak out.

9 must have been an odd year. It was also at age 9 that I learned to fear speaking in front of crowds. I was, in fact, one of the best spellers in my entire school. That’s not saying much, if you knew the school I went to. Regardless, I was asked to be a part of the regional spelling bee. You know, one of those that could lead to even bigger spelling bees, like the kind kids faint at. I studied hard, I knew my words, I was confident. I got up there, my first round. The word was “cough”. I spelled “couch”. People laughed and I was done. Game over. I don’t remember crying, but I do recall the weight of shame and horror I felt. Since then, I have a hard time getting in front of people – even if it’s just showing off my hilarious comedy skills.

In high-school, I attempted to conquer my fears and joined the drama club. I couldn’t even audition in front of the teacher. I stood there, sweating like an idiot and actually walked out of the room without a word, never to return.

As much as I know where my fears spring from, it doesn’t make it easier. The last time I spoke in front of a group was at Hot Topic almost 3 years ago. They made us do some kind of lame skit that involved me writing a hilarious speech. And it was hilarious, in context to what we were doing. I got a few chuckles from the people who “got” my jokes – you must understand, I don’t play for the bottom feeders, I use only high brow comedy in situations like these. And truth be told, my comedy isn’t for everyone. I’m often far too subtle.

I digress, while up on stage, my body shook, my hands trembled, my ears rang, my face heated up, my voice wavered, and boy did I sweat! I made it through, but it was hard and there were a few moments where I felt as though I might actually pass out.

Unlike Albert Brooks in “Defending Your Life”, I completed the task I was afraid of, but it didn’t make me feel better and I’m still afraid of speaking in front of groups.

I think perhaps my biggest fear about the wedding, isn’t so much how well the event goes off – I know everything will be fine – but that I will be on display for an entire evening. I will be congratulated by people I know and don’t know. I will dance, eat, cut the cake, throw my garter, and all those awesome things people do at weddings – all in front of hundreds of eyes. I will also proclaim my undying love for AJB – for the whole world to see. I mean, that’s a big deal, right? A really big deal.

It goes without saying that I am happy about the whole thing in general. 9 year old fears aside, I realize that weddings are one of those times in life where (if you’re lucky) you don’t get a do-over. The idea is that you do it once and that’s it. You get one chance to get it right, to be fabulous and throw an event that people will remember forever. No pressure.

I’m also filled with a deep sadness regarding the absence of my Dad at my wedding. He won’t walk me down the aisle, he won’t give me away, he won’t dance with me, and he won’t give an embarrassing speech about how he wasn’t sure he liked AJB in the beginning, but grew to appreciate him – without actually saying how much he appreciates him, or how AJB has numerous faults, but no, just kidding, he’s a good guy. I know that there will be a million points during my wedding where I will be unable to contain my sadness and others where I will be unable to contain my joy. I will, instead, dance with my brothers – who I adore.

I know. It’s all going to be great and everything will be fine.