I was physically biting my tongue, which is normally something I reserve for funerals.

I did not anticipate feeling this way in the midst of my wedding vows.

My only hope was that Alanna would continue to speak until I was able to gather myself appropriately. I would soon find out that she was done speaking, our intimate crowd of guests would hear one of the following: Either completely BOTCHED wedding vows or elated cries masked as anguish!!

The former won the bet. Yes…. I am Jessica Maloney, writer, and I completely & entirely flubbed my wedding vows. I couldn’t risk the ugly, blubbering cries that were just below the surface. In fact I don’t have a damn clue what I actually said…my best guess is something about love, forever love and the children. Alanna’s speech struck a chord, that’s probably an understatement.

 Ask my newly proclaimed husband?

 Oh, good idea, except, he was so enthralled in how he was going to slay me with his vows and put on the performance of a lifetime he wasn’t listening anyway! He then proceeded to do exactly that with a disgusting amount of ease. However, he did assure me during the course of my short vows that I mentioned that I loved him.

You’d think after two years of emotional nudity I would have a permanent suit of armor and I would have the ability to “send my representative” at a moment’s notice. But, that is exactly why I fell for this man. I lose my superpowers with him. I feel everything, and at approximately 10xs the rate of normal emotions.

When Alanna kicked off the ceremony with, “Have you ever walked into a situation and frozen? Assuming you knew exactly what was going on? Judged the situation, thinking you had it all figured out, only to find out you were epically wrong about almost everything?”

My eyes instantaneously filled to the brim for two simultaneous reasons:

A: As you can imagine, I have been subjected to my fair share of judgement the last few years. People near & far assumed they knew or had what was presented to them as firsthand knowledge of what had gone on in my life and JUDGED, however incorrectly, my life, my character and my decisions.

You’ve been there too.

B. I was the judger in this relationship. I had a plan, I had made judgements. As soon as I thought I had my little life figured out and I was stepping on my own path. The universe SLAMMED me with The Love of My Life and proceeded to force me to throw everything familiar into a tornado. Further forcing my hand to utilize the full courage of love to allow myself to be loved (which, if we are honest is infinitely more frightening than loving someone else) and much to my chagrin, as we are all promised when we strip all of the fears and ugliness away…Love Prevails.

My husband’s wedding vows are the most beautiful words I will ever hear, I have no shame in telling you that I did my damndest to cover his cheat sheet hidden in his hand as he recited his vows with grace, “your companionship is vital to my happiness and I would be lost without you. I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to be so beautiful, funny, intelligent, kind, determined and” (my fave) “relentlessly wonderful. I have been around the world twice, but I never went anywhere until I met you. I am SO happy you are finally becoming a Maloney.”

Between me, you and the keyhole, I wouldn’t have beaten that mess of words even if I had the wherewithal to remember my well-written vows.

As an analytical cynic, I would have zero problems stating what I would change or do better about the evening of September 16^th. There is not one detail, not even one that I would change. My Dad refusing to let go of my arm as he walked me down the aisle, forcing my feet to quickly become mud covered was one of the best moments of my life and my Momma being right there to button me up in the last seconds before my life changed made me feel so special! I had missed these vital exchanges for so many years. My almost husband and I surrounded by our children as we stood before our close family members; my heart has never felt so full of love and life.

Every detail was perfection, down to the broken china plate that we are certain was Mike’s recently passed mother making her presence known. The chef’s hidden Biggie Smalls shirt, homage to Mike’s younger days. Our brothers, fathers and family members pitching in to deliver food and dancing the night away under the stars, will forever be known as the best night of our lives.

I’ll call this blog series done and leave you all with the best quote, threat, advice of the night given to Mike by my cousin Amber:

“Love her, but keep her wild.”

-Atticus

As a self-proclaimed cynic, I’ve always thought this song was a crock of sh%t. I’ll call myself a former hopeless romantic, violently turned cynic. That’s better. Basically even worse than the born-cynic, it’s like the ex-smoker theory. No one is more offended by smoke. To put it mildly, no one is more offended by love than a former hopeless romantic whose flame was either brutally extinguished by the universe or slowly suffocated via half-hearted hopes and lackluster promises, or both.

When THIS whirlwind romance began, I began kicking and screaming. We’ve covered the “Jess’s Hot Lava” in a previous blog, you’ll have to go back to get the full story. Plus it’s worth the read. Just saying.

I did not want to fall in love. I wanted a damn dinner partner. That’s what I had wanted for as long as I could remember. Someone to spend an adult Saturday night with. A good bottle of wine, fantastic conversation, mingling, maybe even a little dancing; a man I could pluck a topic out of the universe or more realistically, Elite Daily, or google, and verbally spar. Simple enough, right?

You’d be surprised. Those men are few and far between.

Fast-forward to my having found the previous aforementioned man and doing my best to deny (hence the cynicism) that he existed. Guess what? He prevailed. His description….”I just kept putting my helmet on every day,” pretty much sums up our early courtship. The Helmet Mindset did amazing things, my ever-present scowl softened, people even started coming up to me and saying I looked different. My father in particular said, “Jess, I know you’re a real hard-ass, but you just look fragile and not in a bad way.”

The weeks leading up to the wedding have been a vortex of planning, details, and execution. Friends and family keep asking us if we have cold feet, it has been an easy, quick & clipped, “no.” There was no time to even consider nerves. Or maybe better said this way….you never really know when that sort of thing is going to creep up and slap you in the face. I can’t speak for my fiancé, but for me, I was having lunch with a good friend at The Winds, sipping daytime Chardonnay and indulging in pasta for the final time before the Big Day when the face slap reared its ugly head.  

The Winds patio is as close as I’ll get to my days in Europe while sitting in Southwest Ohio. It is typically a wonderful sensory overload of indulgences, ivy covered outdoor walls, the hum of conversation and laughter, food that awakens the palette in a different way with each visit. I digress...... Last Weds I was flooded with a sense of panic that lasted a full 72hrs. I hate to fail. I really hadn’t spent a whole lot of time lamenting over my previous attempt at marriage. I hadn’t sat around and considered what, if anything, I could’ve done differently.

 The 72hrs of panic was chock-full of a lot of finger pointing in my own direction and being gripped with a sense of fear that it had been ALL my fault and what if I was destined to F it all up again. What I did know was the following:

1. I would follow this man off the side of a cliff.

2. There is absolutely nowhere else I would rather be. We could be cleaning gutters on a Saturday or flying off to Cali. I still want to be by his side.

3. I can tell him anything. He knows it ALL. I’ve shared the good the bad and the ugly with him.

SO in reference to number 3…..I puked it all out. My fears, my maxed out state of self-loathing. He laughed and laughed and laughed. It was like Fantasy Football Draft Day all over again. Lots of me enduring laughter directed AT ME. I’m fully convinced that he is thoroughly entertained by me and that may be, in part, the reason he is making this commitment. (Full on face palm).

 Following an actual discussion, where it was determined that if anything, we’ve built this “vacuum cleaner” (what we call our relationship) with the best of parts, and we’ve gone back to engineering multiple times to work out the kinks. We definitely know what doesn’t work, and what we both know we should never do. Deal Breakers for those of you current on therapy lingo. Full commitment to wake up each and every day and ask ourselves, how can I make this day better for my partner? Will take us through the remainder of our years.

 Yesterday, one of my favorite friends, posed the infamous, all important question…”are you nervous?” It was with a clean, pure, & virtuous heart that my answer was an absolute “no, maybe that I’m going to bomb my vows, but that’s it.”

This softer, more kind, less ready to burn the whole world down woman I’ve become over the last two years is ready to commit, this time for keeps. I’m waking up on Wedding Eve with a clean soul, a happy heart overflowing with love and a to-do list a mile long.

So yes. All I need is Love. 

“Do you understand what that means?” I slowly took in my bare feet on the two-hundred year old hardwood floor and the stranger studying my face intently next to me. My face was hot, my mind racing. I cleared my throat, took a deep breath and came back to reality grinning like an idiot in love. The stranger was our wedding photographer, Perry Jurick; her inquiry, “would you like to have a first look photo?” Sent me flying back to the first week I met my soon to be husband.

 Just One Look the infamous Doris Day song, was used on a well-publicized Pepsi add in the winter of 2015/2016. This tough guy who had been through 3 deployments and had seen more than many humans can even fathom called in an absolute panicone cold Tuesday morning. His deep, captivating voice was laced with disgust. “Listen” was all he said, “I need you to just listen to me, I’m serious.”

 I’ll eliminate all of the expletives he actually used (I’m certain your imagination can take over)…... “This Pepsi add just came on, I’ve seen it 100 times, it’s on auto play on ESPN. Today, after the short amount of time we’ve spent together THIS ad had me all choked up and teary. It’s BS. You’ve pulled the pin on my heart, since day one at Panera. I just thought you should know; let’s never mention this again.”

So I didn’t. Hence the reason Perry’s question sucked me through the porthole in time. I can tell you the exact spot I was standing the first time I spoke to this man, and exactly where I was standing the day his feelings were revealed. I’ve been utterly enthralled by this rough and tumble Irishman since minute one.

Perry and I were meeting to work on a very special photo shoot, in part for Mike, that I had sworn to secrecy, I’m not a great secret keep so I, of course, in the end let the cat out of the bag. Perry’s amazing photography skills and the beauty of Partington Spring House left me feeling like the proverbial blushing bride!

The notion that all I needed was love and bare feet in the Springwater have dissipated.  I’ve found during the course of our planning, that I wanted our wedding to be small, very, very small and special. With an emphasis on special…..the 13 piece band we’ve booked, yes, that’s right. 13 people, complete with brass. Feel free to laugh, includes a former co-worker of mine from a job that shaped my life in a big way. Ohio Brass & Electric, with their eclectic style, larger than life personalities and array of music was a CLEAR winner in the pool of bands we had interviewed.

Chow plan? Buffet style, classic pasta, salad, bread….keep things simple? HA!!!!!! In this new life, I have admitted that simple is one thing I am not. It seems as if everyone else was fully aware, I was the LAST person to find out. Our food will be provided by world-renowned Chef, Brett Crowe. Brett is currently the Chef at L in Cincinnati, located in the Great American Ballpark Building. Parisian-style cuisine is his specialty, and he will infuse plenty of Parisian-style into our wedding meal. J’aime Paris!  

Our short list of completed planning includes…. an eclectic venue with an abundance of history, a world-class photographer scored via luck from the universe, a distinguished chef, a marvelous band to pull it all together…oh and most importantly….. the goblets have all been secured. I'll be walking down the aisle to the infamous Doris Day song, I couldn't imagine it any other way. All is right in my little corner of the world.  6 days and counting……

The month of August 2016 passed without my friends making an offer on the coveted property. While disappointed, ok, perhaps more like licking my wounds.  I completely understood from a business perspective. The purchase was a huge leap business-wise for the two ladies as well as their families and would require rezoning along with a multitude of other hoops to jump through. Things were put on the back burner for the fall. Which, if we’re all friends here, was a blessing in disguise.

As it turns out starting a new life, complete with a move to a new town, blending 4 girls, combing lives with a new partner and purchasing a home in the span of only a few months was more than enough. Attempting to add marriage into the equation would’ve caused the entire thing, toothpicks and all to come crumbling down. I missed my hometown I thought I was ready to flee, and everyone in it. I cried every single time I had to go to the new grocery store where I knew no one. Every time. I missed all of the little nuances and places that reminded me of various points in my life. I missed driving down Dayton Dr. and seeing my elementary and Jr High friend’s homes where we would jump on the trampoline until dusk and ride our bikes after dark to Fulmer. I missed Central where I plopped each girl in a stroller and would walk to the library, I missed my wine nights with my neighbor. I missed the stomach flipping possibility of running into someone I both wanted to see and did not want to see at every stop light in town. I missed passing so many of the spots where life altering events took place, particularly the last few years of my life. Those moments, unbeknownst to me, had become ingrained in my very soul.

I ripped off the Band-Aid, in typical Jessica style (see blog #2 for more info). Moving to Centerville, on paper, seemed like a logical step. After all, I’m fluid, I’m the queen of change, not to mention fearless. So, the leap was made. In the spirit of full disclosure, I would’ve followed my new partner into a blazing inferno. He had that “thing” the unexplainable, unnamed “thing” I had spent hours locked up with my best friend trying desperately to explain or put a finger on as I dismantled my former life. It was the #1 thing I was unwilling to settle for less in regards to my next (if ever) partner. That “thing” he embodied “it.”

He became my confidant, my rock and everything in between. The patience and understanding he displayed as I struggled like a flailing fish out of water in my new life was a game changer. I had lost faith in most everyone by the time he showed up on scene. His no-quit attitude toward life was very much as advertised. His kindness toward my children set the example for me to follow with his girls. His knowledge and life experience far superseded any other man I had come into contact with. It was easy for him to become my guidepost, my lighthouse in the distance.  In the months that followed from September until after the start of the New Year. I was in a whirlwind of hellish experiences and the prospect of nuptials, well, that was a distant memory. I wasn’t sure I wanted the title or the responsibility of wife/step-mother at all in certain moments. Enter Partington Spring House.

Even in the doldrums of winter, the home and property had this amazing standout quality, it just seems to grab you on a core level. Despite the beauty, the property was still on the market. In my industry, the technical term is functional obsolescence, meaning it just doesn’t function the way a typical home would. So this gem sat..... While I was reeling, my friends were researching and prepping to make a leap of their own. An offer was made, negotiations lasted days and was finally accepted. We celebrated as a group over one of our favorites, Wobbly Wheel from the Yellow Springs Brewery. Refueled with love and hope after many months of despair the idea of exchanging vows at what would become The Partington Spring House was back on the table. My fiancé was adamant, I was fluid, of course. Our upcoming trip to Cali would be a fantastic opportunity to commit to one another with a gorgeous backdrop, in a simple ceremony. A girl who thought she would exchange nuptials with the man of her dreams a thousand miles from home ended up almost steps from her own backyard. The last few years have been wrought with lessons, most of them hard. The most important just may be the beginning of understanding what the old-timers actually mean when they say, "you never know what is going to happen in life."

Realtor

Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices Professional Realty 

realtorjessicalong@gmail.com

937.469.3404

I believe in Home. 

 

For more information on The Partington Spring House visit www.partingtonspringhouse.com 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thepartingtonspringhouse/

 

The first time I met Alanna, my fiancé Mike’s sister, I knew I wanted her to marry us. Never mind the fact that I met her on her front porch, while completely hungover from the previous night’s New Year’s Eve shenanigans. Having only known “Mike” (not that Mike, new Mike) for approximately 9 days-we like most normal couples…met on match.com (hysterical laughter is necessary-we are still shocked) a lot of the stories he had shared about his life seemed outlandish and little did I know, I was on the verge of finding out they were actual & factual.  

Looking like an Ohio version of Drew Barrymore, Alanna’s light, welcoming spirit was not at all put off by the fact that we had shown up unannounced on her Cincinnati doorstep January 1^st. Dubbed the Red House, her home seemed to me, a sight for sore eyes. The pleasantly cluttered front porch was the backdrop of perfection for the tarot cards (whipped out quickly upon my request), cigarettes and most importantly REAL life talk. Her voice was magnetic, she was every bit as charming and witty as her brother that I was rapidly falling for. She gave me a tour of her home brimming with self-created artwork, children, pets and a fantastically beautiful husband, sporting a man bun to die for, whom I have yet to see out of the kitchen.  I wanted to flip through every single canvas but I stood stoically, not wanting to give myself away. I, being the closed-mouth woman that I am, never mentioned to Mike

the rapidly flashing thoughts in my brain about being part of this eclectic, complex family. In another part of my brain, I grabbed the bongos I don’t currently own, flopped down on the floor, started a drum circle and sipped espresso for the remainder of the afternoon. For Christ’s sake, this man had NOT mentioned marriage……while sober anyway. I should mention at this point, this was an interesting twist, Mike is anything but a hippy at first glance. A decorated War Veteran, from his stature, to his posture, to his overall aura, he oozes everything you’d see out of a 1970s Vietnam Sergeant. His life story will come at another time, likely in the form of a novel. No joke.  

 At that point on my own personal path, I cherished my single-lady status as well as the coveted alone time. Having been previously married at 19 and a mother to two daughters, “alone time” was an utterly foreign concept. My brain was seething at my heart, demanding this togetherness nonsense come to an immediate halt. These moments of seething, I would later find out, Mike had actually given a name…”Jess’s Hot Lava.” Apparently, I would throw hot lava in his direction any time he started to get too close.  

Once the hot lava reached a manageable point, Mike asked me to marry him in Vegas, May of 2016. We were so incredibly into one another we passed up opportunities as well as unbelievably short lines to meet both Mario Lopez & Mike Tyson. Shrug. Missed opportunities for sure, but we couldn’t see anything but one another. We had no plan on when or where these impending nuptials would take place but unbeknownst to us, the universe was already at work.  

Enter Partington Spring House…. In August of 2016 one of my very best friends, requested to see an 1800s Stone home tucked just outside our favorite little Village of Yellow Springs. The team of sisters had been scouring the area for years looking for a prospective property to expand their burgeoning photography studio into an event venue. Mike & I stepped onto the property and felt an instantaneous connection. Not unlike what we had experienced in such a ridiculously short time as a couple. I was glued to the Spring itself, this little place on the earth was my “barefoot nuptials” spot! I couldn’t fathomhow I would make it happen, but I knew it was “the one.”

This is normal for my personality, I’ve been told I jump into the fire and then decide how to handle things…”look before you leap” was one of the phrases my mother used on repeat throughout my formative years. I’m still more of a leaper, it’s my adventurous/gypsy soul at work. One of those innate characteristics that I couldn’t change if I tried-and believe me momma I’ve tried, I’ve given it hell actually, hence why we are on try #2 in the first place.

The gypsy soul brings us back to my wedding theme and how I became a  GASP…bridezilla. I had one of those freakishly weird moments in life where I sat up in the middle of night out of nowhere and said, “Bohemian Wedding.” That’s it. Next stop Pinterest. I didn’t already have a wedding board dating back to Feb 2016 locked away privately. That would be bizarre J This, Mostly a Maloney board would soon become flooded with scraps of what I envision as my outside-the-box dream wedding and I would soon be consumed with my quest to locate antique goblets. For real CONSUMED. Things get serious here, it has become so serious in fact, that I cannot make it to any appointment on time, as I am constantly detoured by Estate Sales & Thrift Stores on my Goblet Expedition. Hello, my name is Jessica and I am a gobletholic.  

I’ve never been a fan of The Bride. No, this isn’t hate mail. I mean that in the most simplistic of ways, I was never the teen ripping out pages of Bridal magazines to save in hopes of my big wedding day. I’ve never watched one, not even the slightest second of a bridal “reality” tv show, would have NEVER thought there was any chance that I could morph into a Bridezilla, I would’ve bet against the Vegas odds any day of the week. Particularly since I eloped the first time around and avoided the whole mess.

Yes, I’m on what we call…..”attempt #2,” “Post Failure #1” or a plethora of other pseudonyms. Low risk for Bridezilla-esque behavior, by most anyone’s standards. I don’t fancy myself much of a materialist, I would gladly give up my BMW and ride my golden yellow 1973 Duchess bicycle everywhere if it were feasible. Navigating the world of real estate from the seat of the Duchess, complete with a basket may have a negative impact on my ability provide for my ever growing family so I’ll have to stick with the 320 for now. Though if I’m being completely honest, I close my eyes at night dreaming of riding that beauty through the streets of Europe on my way to show homes.

Heading into “round #2” I simply wanted to marry the man that I have fallen for in so many different ways-that the backdrop, the company, the dress, the music, what (if anything) I would be holding in my hands, didn’t matter-all that mattered was that I would be staring into his steely blue eyes, promising to be his for the rest of my days. If I had any idea at all in my head it was that I would be shoeless…. that was pretty much my only stronghold. Barefoot nuptials for this chica.
We toyed around with the idea of marrying on the beaches in Oceanside California, or even La Jolla (my fantasy home). Those fantasies included, ourselves, the children, no wait not the children….our entire families…no… not them either. Maybe just us. Yes, just us.

Fantasies ensued from coast to coast, worldwide and everywhere in between. Until we stepped foot on the grounds of The Partington Spring House, on that day it was comparable only to the pull we had felt instantaneously toward one another. As a Realtor, I see cool properties ALL THE TIME, I’ve become numb over the years and there might be one home or property each year that makes me feel tingly inside. As we meandered the property with one of my bestie’s and her sister, it become abundantly clear if THIS was the property they would purchase to expand their business, THIS would be the place where we would wed. This was a year ago now. Our journey to wed on this peace filled slice of land is chock full of twists and turns, a page turner if you will. The end result, in 5 short weeks will be Bohemian inspired nuptials full of nature and familial inspiration. Hands raised in prayer, crossed fingers and every other imaginable superstition in hopes that the universe will keep the rain away. Rain Gods be damned!

Written By: 
Jessica Long-Botkin, Future Ohio Bride
Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices Professional Realty 
realtorjessicalong@gmail.com
937.469.3404

Venue: The Partington Spring House www.partingtonspringhouse.com