“I need you to pack that maroon flannel I got you for Christmas along with that vest I got you. Oh, and that other flannel I got you too. Don’t forget the dark jeans I like and your boots. Make sure you clean your beard up before you come down here too, please!”
My fiancée quite often tells me what to wear, and that’s totally fine because I’m a fashion failure. The plan for the weekend was to take our engagement photos, which would be used for save-the-dates, some mod podge pallet thing, and other frames and decorations at the wedding. I really have no clue what most of these decorations are, and as I have through most of the wedding planning process, I said okay and was ready to do whatever the bride requested. Happy bride, happy ride. Is that how it goes?
We loaded up the car with a game of Scrabble, a couple signs, a banner, a blanket, and a rope. I was a little confused by the rope and concluded I was going to be murdered, but then my dumbass realized it was to “tie the knot” in a picture. Got it. We headed to the first of three locations and I began to exercise my jaw muscles, prepping for an afternoon full of smiling.
It all started on a bench. My job was to just sit there. I literally had to sit on the bench, one arm resting on my leg while the other rested on the back of the bench. The Bride then had to lie on the bench in multiple poses, all using me as basically part of the bench. I either had to smile, or not smile, and look at the camera. Easy. Then we had to hold a picture frame out in front of us while we kissed each other, but my giant ass head pretty much ruined this pose.
We then headed to a bridge over a pond. Now I had to actually put in some effort. I was instructed to hold one end of the banner that had our date combined with hearts. Easy stuff. We did a couple more poses and we headed off to this big tree. This is where it got more difficult. We each had to hold our end of the banner while leaning around the tree. I must have done something terribly wrong because when I popped my head around the tree, the photographer busted out laughing and then the Bride yelled at me. Oh well, onto the next location.
We hit up a little lake with killer views and the magic truly began to happen. Using a small dock as our medium, we began to crush the hell out of this photoshoot. We sat on the blanket in all kinds of poses. We tied our knot in the rope and held it out. We hung a sign with our date on the dock and hit every pose known to man behind it, then the sign fell in the water. Have no fear, Delph to the rescue. I pulled it straight out of the water and went to dry it off.
“No! You’re going to smear it, it’s chalk!”
We continued to pose for picture after picture, lying down on the dock while the photographer stood on a stool and stared down at us. I felt my eyes begin to shut and drowsiness hit me in full force as we left to head to our last location. First, we had to stop by a barn to take a couple pictures, and then it was finally on to the last location for real. I passed out. I slept the whole way to the next location. I was knocked out of my slumber by the Bride, and I found us parked on the side of the road next to a creek. We then trudged through the woods and had to venture out on rocks into the middle of the creek.
There’s something about rock hopping across a Blue Ridge mountain creek in the middle of January that pumps your adrenaline. I was ready for round three. This time we were doing stuff with the blanket draped around us, then I had to pick the Bride up and stand on a rock in the middle of the creek. Then it was off to some fallen log for more poses and “SAVE OUR DATE” spelled out with Scrabble letters and the engagement ring. Then “LOVE” with the letter and ring in our hands. Then the best thing that could ever happen happened. The camera died.
I know there are some scrubs out there who hate engagement photos, but I’m content with the product. Our photographer (future mother-in-law) made it easy and the Bride loved the pictures. Now what’s next? I don’t know. Whatever the Bride tells me, I guess. .
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