There’s a line from the film Father of the Bride, where Steve Martin’s character is reflecting and says, “I used to think a wedding was a simple affair. Boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say I do. I was wrong. That’s getting married. A wedding is an entirely different proposition.”
I thought it was funny when I saw it ten or fifteen years ago. I had no idea how right he was.
As a woman, I appreciate that there are those of us who have been mentally planning our “Big Days” since we were in diapers. I am not that woman. My Barbies never got married—they were too busy bungee jumping off the balcony and testing out plastic-grocery-bag parachutes for me and my sister. I vaguely recall prancing around as a small child with a pillowcase “veil,” but as there weren’t too many grooms to go around in my all-female-save-for-my-poor-dad household, I don’t recall spending much time thinking about weddings.
Even after I started attending my friends’ weddings after college, I still didn’t spend much time thinking about weddings. I certainly wasn’t in any hurry to get married and considering the men I tended to date, that was a really, really good thing.
I’m now planning my own wedding, and it’s freaking me right out.
More than anything, I feel like there are so many little details to take care of that I would never think of on my own. On the one hand, what would I do without theknot.com? On the other hand, I wish I’d never seen theknot.com. I mean, do people actually buy bride-to-be clothing? Am I missing something by not wearing shorts with “Bride” written in rhinestones across my behind? The whole wedding industry seems to be designed to separate me from any and all money I have or ever will have.
Where do I even start? I don’t even want to tell vendors that I’m planning a wedding anymore—it almost immediately jacks the price up 10 to 25 percent. On everything. I find myself staring at our guest list, which I remind myself contains our family and friends, who are ostensibly people we like, and trying to determine who we don’t need to invite in order to save some dough. I then feel like an ass.
There are a few things I’ve finally resolved to stop worrying about. I can’t afford a live band, and the next time my dear friend who insists that “live music is so much cooler” tells me I need one, I’m putting up my hand and telling him to get his one of his famous musical friends to donate their time to me. That might shut him up. I also do not need bouquets that cost $200. Seriously? Flowers wired together and wrapped in ribbon is $200? We are also not giving out favor tchotchkes. We are making a donation in our guests’ names to the rescue organization where we got our puppy, because it’s the best way we can think of to include the dog without actually having a one-and-a-half-year-old Lab puppy at the wedding. Because that wouldn’t end badly or anything.
We’ve already fired one caterer, and I’m still not totally sure about the new one. Between my fiancé and my mother, I’m ready to tell them to go to the tasting together and let me know how it went. And then take care of the food for me.
I’ve definitely hit the stage where I am wondering why on earth we decided not to elope to Cabo or Vegas. I know that I’m the one who wanted a big wedding, and I’m the one who insisted we invite all of our friends and family. I’m starting to get jealous of our friends who are already done with their weddings. I’m really just hoping that I’ll enjoy the actual day at this point.
