September 26, 2014

Our Wedding Reading...

Since our photos aren't in from the photographer yet and I haven't shared much about our wedding yet, I thought that I'd share the reading we had Judy our officiant read during our ceremony and the little story behind it.

As I'm sure you can tell from the random pictures I've posted from the wedding, Justin and I are not a normal couple. So when it came to choosing a reading for our wedding we had a hard time because we hated almost all of the reading that we came across (We also didn't like any of the traditional vows, but that's a story for another day). The majority of them were too sappy or too Godly, and that is so not who we are. 

After searching for what seemed like forever we found a poem called "Scientific Romance" by science fiction author Tim Pratt. The poem itself is a little weird and a little inappropriate, just like Justin and I so I thought it was perfect from the moment I read it -- As did our friends that we ran it past.

We did have a little back and forth about it because parts of the poem are inappropriate. Justin was worried because his younger sisters were attending our wedding and he was unsure of how his mother would react, so he wanted to omit part of them poem. I argued that it would ruin the integrity of the poem and I loved it just the way it was and that if anyone had a problem with it they could suck it because it was for our wedding and not anyone elses. Eventually Justin agreed, we sent it to our officiant.

On the day of our wedding Judy read it in her perfect voice and our guest cried and cracked up all at the same time. It was exactly what I wanted to happen and I couldn't have been happier.

And here it is for your reading pleasure...
Scientific Romance
by Tim Pratt

If starship travel from our
Earth to some far
star and back again
at velocities approaching the speed
of light made you younger than me
due to the relativistic effects
of time dilation,
I'd show up on your doorstep hoping
you'd developed a thing for older men,
and I'd ask you to show me everything you
learned to pass the time
out there in the endless void
of night.

If we were the sole survivors
of a zombie apocalypse
and you were bitten and transformed
into a walking corpse
I wouldn't even pick up my
assault shotgun,
I'd just let you take a bite
out of me, because I'd rather be
undead forever
with you
than alive alone
without you.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back
to the days of your youth
to see how you became the someone
I love so much today, and then
I'd return to the moment we first met
just so I could see my own face
when I saw your face
for the first time,
and okay,
I'd probably travel to the time
when we were a young couple
and try to get a three-way
going. I never understood
why more time travelers don't do
that sort of thing.

If the alien invaders come
and hover in stern judgment
over our cities, trying to decide
whether to invite us to the Galactic
Federation of Confederated
Galaxies or if instead
a little genocide is called for,
I think our love could be a powerful
argument for the continued preservation
of humanity in general, or at least,
of you and me
in particular.

If we were captives together
in an alien zoo, I'd try to make
the best of it, cultivate a streak
of xeno-exhibitionism,
waggle my eyebrows, and make jokes
about breeding in captivity.

If I became lost in
the multiverse, exploring
infinite parallel dimensions, my
only criterion for settling
down somewhere would be
whether or not I could find you:
and once I did, I'd stay there even
if it was a world ruled by giant spider-
priests, or one where killer
robots won the Civil War, or even
a world where sandwiches
were never invented, because
you'd make it the best
of all possible worlds anyway,
and plus
we could get rich
off inventing sandwiches.

If the Singularity comes
and we upload our minds into a vast
computer simulation of near-infinite
complexity and perfect resolution,
and become capable of experiencing any
fantasy, exploring worlds bound only
by our enhanced imaginations,
I'd still spend at least 1021 processing
cycles a month just sitting
on a virtual couch with you,
watching virtual TV,
eating virtual fajitas,
holding virtual hands,
and wishing
for the real thing.

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