7 Months To Go: Wedding Planning Is For The Birds
His Side of the Story
You've Met The Person Of Your Dreams...
You know what’s fun about wedding planning? Nothing. Sure being engaged is this great romantic time in your relationship where you imagine your future with your beloved as magical and wonderful. As if he’s going to stop farting on you like a 5-year old or be as emotionally invested in the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills as you are. Dream on, sister.
Some may call me cynical, but I like to think of myself as excruciatingly realistic. Reality: parties are fun. Planning a party for 250 of your closest friends and relatives involving food, booze, and a touch of class? Ha! Not nearly as fun as just showing up, chowing down at the buffet, drinking the entire bar, and then flinging yourself around the dance floor like you’re never going to see these people again. That’s what’s fun about weddings, not the 200 appointments and 1.7 million decisions that lead up to it.
Meanwhile, everyone you’ve ever met has an opinion disguised as a “suggestion” on everything from flowers, to invitations list, to toilet paper selection for the bathroom. Even for me, a lady with a backbone as thick as an NFL lineman’s neck, I find myself starting to waver (floral printed toilet paper would be a nice touch…). Don’t get me wrong, I welcome suggestions especially from my closest friends and family, but if you are a distant relative or stranger in the grocery store, do not inflict your opinions on me with a coat of guilt that everyone will have the worst time of their lives if I choose a different direction (I’m Catholic and very susceptible to those tactics).
Interestingly enough, the one person on Earth who does not have an opinion is my Angry Bridegroom. Sure, he disagrees with EVERY SINGLE THING I SAY, but offers no random (good or bad) suggestions. Unless you count, “What is the point of fill in the blanks?” (Think: a dress, a ceremony, inviting guests, etc.) as an opinion—and I don’t.
People keep asking me, “How’s wedding planning going?” and my response tends to be something like, “Great, how are those hemorrhoids treating your butthole?” Excessive, I know, but it’s pretty annoying after awhile. Especially since all I’ve done is order cake toppers and matches with our names on them. Why? Because there was a sale and I’m a sexy combination of cheap and lazy. I haven’t even picked my bridal party yet (standby for that blog—sure to be a doozy). So no, I haven’t chosen my pointless centerpieces--that will inevitably end up at Salvation Army the next day--or how I’ll wear my hair—I’ll be lucky if I don’t pull it all out in the next 7 months.
My Cousin Mikey At His Sister's Wedding
Why Do Any Of It?
If I’m so annoyed with the planning process, why not elope you ask? Hello, I love a good party, and my huge, sloppy family—immediate and extended—know how to BRING IT like a buncha Irish P. Diddys. Besides, what better way to drag my new domestic life-partner into the chaos that is my bloodline than to have 100 of my closest relatives get gracefully inebriated and flop around the dance floor like fish on the kitchen counter?
Whenever I feel overwhelmed by this silly wedding planning, I’m going to rely on the image of my 2nd and 5th cousins (whose names are probably John, Michael, or Paddy) soaking up the open bar like a paper towel in a Bounty commercial, and I know it will all be worth it in the end. Oh yeah, and I get to spend the rest of my life chained to one dude. That sounds great too, I suppose.
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