Worth the Wait

Eleven years ago, Craig and I were married in New York City. Looking back, it's amazing how the details of the day have grown fuzzier and fuzzier in my mind. The things I thought I'd always remember, such as the succession of events prior to the wedding, what food was served to the guests at the reception, have fallen victim to the forgetfulness that comes with time. Those things I'd rather forget - the near-rotting roses someone stuffed all over our cake, how difficult it was to use the bathroom while wrangling a wedding gown - still remain fresh in my mind.

Another memory that remains clear is that of our first kiss. Early on in our dating relationship, Craig and I made a decision to not kiss each other on the lips until the day we married, a promise we honored through three and a half years of courtship. Don't get me wrong: we held hands and would peck each other on the cheek, but we drew the line at locking lips. Preserving the integrity of the marriage bed was something we valued highly. We knew that if we didn't draw strict enough boundaries, we could easily disappoint ourselves and rob our future relationship of the intimacy best supported in a committed marriage. As hormonal, young twenty-somethings, desperate times called for desperate measures.

So on July 11, 1998, as 125 guests looked on, we took a deep breath, squeezed our eyes shut, and went for our first kiss. Was it worth the wait? Mm-hm.