Not that I think the city of Houston would care. And while my Gay Ex-Boyfriend's last name is pronounced "Houston", I frankly don't think he's aware of our wedding plans, and it would be odd, to say the least, for me to call him out of the blue & inform him. (How I ended up dating a gay man for 11 months is a story for another day. Which I may or may not get to. Moving on.)
We found a venue for our L.A. fiesta!
Malibu West Beach Club. It's exactly what we need -- a great big room, in a gorgeous location, for an affordable price. They even want you to BYO vendors, which means we can make full use of our friends' offers to help us with stuff like drinks & food.
It already has a dance floor, and the cost of the rental includes tables & chairs and the clean-up fee. It has a great food-prep kitchen, complete with wet bar. They also have big tables for things like a buffet, cake and favors.
The best part: weekday rentals are discounted at 50% of the regular rate. Everything from pricing to available dates are easily found on their website. (Side note: why the hell are most places so damn coy about those things?!?) They don't consider Friday to be a "weekday" -- grammatically amusing, even as it's fiscally understandable. My favorite quote from our meeting with their event coordinator: "Monday is the new Friday." Um, okay. And Tuesday is the new October. Whatever -- we love it and we can afford it. Done.
Now there's just the simple matter of squaring the whole "small S.F. ceremony followed by big, informal L.A. party" thing with the nay-sayers. Normally, I wouldn't consider their opinions worthy of a vote. Except that the loudest member of said camp is Mr. UB. (Yes, exactly -- oh dear.)
To be fair, the exactly 5 people who don't live an easy car drive from one city or the other are all his family & friends. (Well, I really hope that my friend Carla will be coming from Italy, but I'm waiting to sort all of this crap out before I talk logistics with her. Otherwise she might buy a plane ticket for the wrong date/city.) I came up with the extraordinarily novel idea that he should, rather than just fretting silently/arguing with me ... you know, call and ask them. (I know. I'm a rare sort of genius. It's my cross to bear.)
His buddy in Florida promptly responded, "Dude, it's your wedding -- of course I'll be there." Of course, a) he's in the wedding, which necessitates the S.F. part, and b) he's "an enthusiastic heterosexual" who knows that many of my S Girls will be at the L.A. party. But who am I to question the man's motives? I'm just thrilled to hear that it's not a problem. One down.
His friends from New York are also in the wedding -- both of them. Groomsman (him) and Officiant (her). We need them, to say the least. Fortunately, they can make our new date in S.F. (phew!), and are going to try to combine our L.A. party with an already-planned trip to see her parents in Santa Barbara. Perfect! (They'll actually be closer to the north end of Malibu, coming from S.B., than I will, living east of Hollywood.) So that's three.
Which must've been enough to tip the scales. On our way to a game show run-through today (we pretended to play the game as part of the pitch to the network) I mentioned that we need to put money down this week to keep our date for the Palace. He asked me if I really, really wanted to get married there. I said yes, and he said okay. I love him.
And in hindsight, it's probably good that I asked him before the run-through. Because as part of the game, I had to feed him a chocolate-covered onion. While he was blindfolded, and couldn't see it coming.
It's a good thing I travel with Altoids.