The New York Times called it a shattering revival

We went from there to Sardi's. I saw an ad in the Playbill and thought, "Why not?" So many good adventures started that way. You can think, "Oh, no, they'll never let us in. We're wearing jeans and T-shirts," or you can walk in and up the stairs and order a vodka martini and a beer. That's what we did. 

I was surprised to overhear a very chic woman say she had dinner reservations for 11:30. "After theater," Joel said with a shrug, and I loved that. I love that Joel who watches sports 23 hours a day loves the theater, used to go see Broadway plays four times a year and for him the whole thing was as natural as shrugging on a jacket — you pick out a play, buy a discount ticket, find your theater, enjoy. I added Sardi's. "I never thought I could go to Sardi's,"  Joel said. And for that, I guess he loves me :)

It was an early night — we were back in bed by 1:30 — but I'm starting to realize I don't mind that. I know longer feel compelled to stay out a little bit longer to meet more people, see more things, push daylight just a little bit longer. I'd just as soon stay home. And maybe skip the Met the next day and take a nap instead. And that's just what we did. We stayed all nice and cozy in New Rochelle until dark when we ventured out to meet up with some friends in a small little restaurant that was warm and steamy. It had a glass front room that made me think of the cafes and in Israel, but maybe the cafes in Israel were borrowing from NYC ...   

And then were were off to our New York steak dinner. I had this in my mind as an ideal. I blame "Sex in the City" and/or "A League of Their Own." Regardless, I let Joel know early on that that was an expectation so he could plan: Good man that he is, he brought a suit and his wallet. He made us 9:30 reservations at Prime Ko — a spectacular kosher steakhouse on the Upper West Side. We sat by the window and stared deep into each other's eyes. Our fingers intertwined over candlelight. I could see myself from the outside and I thought, "You are a cliche!!!!" But from the inside, from one of two seats at our table, I thought, "This is why this is a cliche. This feels soooooooooooooooooooooo right. Who knew? I guess everybody."

Because I never felt so pampered. I had tried to teach guys what I thought "romance" was, and it always fell flat. Or they had tried too woo me in ways that should have worked, but ... nothing. So I was apprehensive going into the whole weekend. What if my expectations were too high? What if they were unreasonable? What if we fought? What if we got to dinner and had nothing to talk about?

But it wasn't like that. It clicked. And I guess that's how you know that you've found The One. Sometimes I'll tell people, "I knew because ..." but I think really it's a million tiny affirmations that add up to indisputable proof.

Contact Arielle Landau:

alandau@pressofac.com

Follow me on Twitter @arilandau or Pinterest @superbride 

“Bridesmaids”

So when Wiig, the maid of honor, flips at the bridal shower — toppling giant cookies, Champagne-laden tables and exhausting herself trying to fell a chocolate fountain — Rudolph, who has spent the entire movie explaining away her friend’s bad behavior, flips right back.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me and talk about me behind my back like a normal person?” She screams. Man, do I feel that.

Sadly, a few of my friends have acted, well, less than perfect.

My one friend has decided he has to stand up for my ex-boyfriend — for the first time in three years — another has done nothing but sulk. Still more of them have all but vanished as if being engaged makes me “other.”

Wonderful.

But I’ve realized a couple of things. A) My friends are not the happiest. B) I have not been the happiest. And there is a possibility that it’s too hard for them to be happy for me. Too hard even to fake it. Which stinks, but what can I do?

My life is changing, and I will not apologize for that.

But maybe that’s me letting myself off the hook — maybe that’s like saying they’re probably just being mean because I’m too pretty (“Things we say to comfort ourselves for $400, Alex.”) I don’t know.

I do know, though, that getting married means my relationships are changing. My relationship to Joel, of course, will change, so will the one with my parents and sisters; but, yes, to my friends. And that causes strain.

Some friendships won’t make it.

My friend who doesn’t want to come to the wedding — because I was quote “malicious” to dump my ex — can stay at home.

My pouty friends, well, will probably make it. You know, once the wedding madness has passed.

And my closest friends, like my AWOL girls, just need some TLC, I think. I’m pretty sure they’re busy, I’m insanely busy — and I hope I will have some more time soon. Or that’s I’ll adjust. Or we’ll adjust.

This is a fun place to pretend otherwise, but life hasn’t stopped. It does not revolve around me either. Sigh.

So I keep working to keep up with my friends’ lives — and even accept criticism from one of my best friends who says I’m never around.

Wiig, in “Bridesmaids” yells that at the bride — that she’s never around.

It’s fair.

We brides have a lot going on.

But I swear I’m trying.