At first, we said, “Let’s enjoy being engaged! Let’s not rush things the way other people have done.” It was not procrastination. It was savoring.

We savored. The holidays came. The winter rains fell. We reassessed. Were we savory yet? Would we get married this summer?

I was leaving my job. Too soon for a wedding on foreign soil. No. Not this summer. Too little advance notice for guests, too little planning time for us.

When then?

Next summer. No rush.

(Pause here for hysterical laughter.)

Apparently, there is no time too soon to start planning your wedding, even when it’s 16 months away.

Last weekend, Erica came from Dallas. On a table at IHOP, she spread out tear sheets of flowers and gowns and cakes. All I had to do was point to what I liked, like a cave man at Barneys.

She encouraged me to make a guest list. Just one thing. Just the list. Nothing else on the endless checklist, just the list of nice people. I could stop there and see where that left me.

I followed the instructions. I made the list. It took forever. I can’t remember what’s next. Apparently, all cars do not start when you roll them downhill.

Today, Sarah brought me a stack of books on bouquets and etiquette and, like gauzy heroin, Vera Wang on Weddings, replete with brides in heavy gowns in smudgy photos. Brides who are models. Gowns that cost more than a car.

It’s like a very genial, very gradual intervention.

I’m assuming another friend will show up soon to tell me what to do next.