A Craigslist Wedding

And then there's my wife. She's from Craigslist, too.

As most people know, Craigslist is a series of local community classifieds and forums — a place to find jobs, housing, goods & services, social activities, advice, community information, and just about anything else. It was started in San Francisco, but is now worldwide.

Oh. Yeah. I almost forgot — it is also a place to find a date.

My wife and I met on Craigslist. She posted a great ad, and I sent her a great response. After making each other laugh for a week or so online, we decided to meet. In fact, on our first date — the first blind date either of us had been on — we both discussed the alternative stories we'd have to tell our friends if it went well and we had to go public.

"We met on the bus."

"I found her lost dog."

"It was a pie eating contest. She won second prize. When I saw her covered with blueberries from head to toe, right then and there, I knew I had to have her."

Anything but Craigslist.

Our first date was over coffee. I was a bit worried — I was a big fan of the coffee shop I'd invited her to, and knew that if things went sour, I would never be able to go there again.

I took a chance, and we wound up moving from coffee, to lunch, to dinner, then a date the next day.

Three months later we were living together. A year later, I asked her to marry me at the coffee shop where we first met. She made a scene this time, but not the kind that would get us banned. We were getting married, and we wanted to come out to the world.

Yes. We met on the Internet.

No. We're not desperate, creepy sex fiends.

We decided to take the next step. We started planning our Craigslist wedding. Again, it started as a joke. We were making out (yes, engaged people still do that), and I mentioned how weird it was to be making out with my Craigslist fiancé on my Craigslist couch in my Craigslist apartment. She asked if I got her ring on Craigslist. I responded that I wish I had, I would have splurged on something that wasn't made out of hard candy.

Then it got serious. At the time, we were poor — I was finishing up my last year of law school, and she was an artist — basically, we were living in debt. Craigslist discounts/donations could help defer costs. She's English — the bulk of her family lives across the ocean. Most of them would not be able to make it to our wedding in SF. Craiglist guests could help fill her side of the isle.

Could Craigslist be used to set up a wedding? The same impulse that led me to answer her original Craigslist personal ad led us to give it a shot. You never know. It could be fun, right?

We ran with it. Our first post looked something like this:

"Like weddings? Want to meet some new people? Do you own a suit/nice dress? Can you fake an English accent better than Madonna? Want free champagne and cake? Are you available January 15th? In 500 words or less, describe why you'd make a great wedding guest. Best responses get an extra slice of cake."

First off, let me tell you that San Franciscans are fantastic. We received over 2,000 responses. One man volunteered his restaurant in North Beach for a reception — another volunteered his strip club on Mission for the bachelor party. One woman said she'd baked a 7 layer cake for her sister's wedding, and could do it again, this time with raspberries. Another woman said she was a florist and could get us a deal on flowers.

These four people got extra slices of cake, even though their English accents were, in all honesty, absolute shite.

Our post/wedding became the hottest ticket in town. Two tailors volunteered to help with dresses and suits. Six separate caterers offered to set up a four star buffet. A couple offered to let us borrow a pair of their horses so we could gallop into our new life together after our vows (though we did not borrow the horses, these folks did receive an extra slice of cake which they brought home for the horses, Mandy and Sprinkles).

In the midst of the barrage of emails, I started to think of the old children's story about stone soup. A man comes to town with nothing but a stone. The villagers, fooled into coming together, contribute to the pot bit by bit, help make a fantastic soup that the whole town enjoys.

Our wedding was stone soup — I just had to provide the rock. Speaking of which, a jeweler offered to upgrade my wife's wedding band. We politely declined, but offered him a seat at the table.

In case you're wondering, our wedding was fantastic. A Craigslist interfaith minister gave a great service, for which we bartered a day's worth of community service at the soup kitchen he ran. Because we donated our time first, he actually could say a few nice things about us, having spent the day with us cooking for and feeding the homeless. Our friends and family had a fantastic time, though there were a few bumps along the way. One man insisted that he be in every picture, things coming to a head when he jumped in for the shot with me and my sisters. One woman cried when my best man wouldn't dance with her (for the fifth consecutive song). Grandma did keep asking how we were related to the caterers. However, overall, everyone had a great sense of humor about the bumps, and enjoyed the ride that was our wedding.

The only fee we wound up paying was the rental/clean up fee on a small plot of land in Golden Gate Park. The chairs and flowers were generously donated. Craigslist friends built the Chuppah. She wore her mother's dress, I wore my suit.

We danced till the wee hours in North Beach, old and extremely new friends alike helping to lift our chairs into the air to dance the Hora. We then spent our first night as husband and wife at the W Hotel downtown — as it happens, their concierge is a big Craigslist buff.

During our 2 weeks in Napa at a little bed and breakfast provided by a sweet older couple who volunteered their services, we opened our wedding presents. Though we made presents optional, almost every one of our Craigslist guests brought one, each with a special Craigslist touch. A lot of people gave us arts and crafts — pots they'd thrown, pictures they'd painted. One man gave us an I.O.U. to be collected in the future if we have a child — he offered to paint a mural in their room. Some folks cleaned out their closets and garages. I received a piece of hardware that I still haven't managed to identify as computer or car part. We received a two-seater bike, which, after several failed attempts, we managed to pedal from vineyard to vineyard.

Thus, we stepped into married life, open about our beginnings, excited about our future.

To all our guests: don't worry, the pictures will be online soon.

— Colin Alexander (colin_alexander [at] hotmail [dot] com)