I’ve always wanted to get married. I’ve never wanted to plan a wedding.
“If it were up to me,” Michael tells people, “we’d elope on a beach.”
“If it were up to me,” I say, “we’d have a party in the backyard. And it’d be potluck.”
But there’s a third party involved here: Dad. AKA The Man Footing The Bill.
Let me summarize: we’ve got a hermit, a frugal conversationalist, and a guy who’s been saving for years in order to throw his daughter a big party.
Michael has wondered when he will win out over my father. Well, not this time.
And so it is that our wedding will be held at a traditional venue. And our invite list includes 190 people. And we’re not only fine with that, we’re happy about it. Because ultimately, who cares? We just want to get married. Who complains about a dad who wants everyone to have a great time?
Thankfully, the planning hasn’t been difficult at all. We booked the second venue we looked at. The first officiant we talked to. The second photographer. The first DJ.
This doesn’t mean no research has gone into this. But lucky for me, Michael loves that part. Or just realizes if he doesn’t do it, it will never get done. I have zero desire to sort through sixty venues. Michael narrowed it down, showed me his favorites, I picked two, made the appointments, and voila.
But there are some things that take a Motherly Intervention. I hate shopping. Of all kinds. Clothes. Cars. Groceries. That whole minimalist thing? Probably stems from the fact that I’d rather live without than have to shop for something. Mom came down in October to take me dress shopping. I booked one appointment. In 90 minutes, this place got me in and out of 35 dresses. We narrowed it down to three. A week later, I went back in and bought my dress. (Though not one of those top three, but that’s another story.)
Mom tried to get me to pick out shoes on her most recent visit, but, at the first store, we were told the summer shoes wouldn’t be out for two more weeks. I didn’t want do go to a second store, so I said, “Meg (my youngest sister) is coming down in a few weeks. Can we stop shopping if I promise I’ll buy shoes when she comes to visit?” Mom gave in.
My plan is this: The first day Meg is here, I’ll be working. So I’ll give her my car and the addresses of three shoe places so she can go do reconnaissance. So by the time I’m done with school, we can get this shoe thing finished up in no time.
Yesterday we booked our final vendor. And today I looked at the DJ’s questionnaire. “Write Yes, No, or IDK if you don’t know.” I had a lot of IDK’s.
- Will you have a grand entrance? IDK
- Music to enter by: IDK
- Would you like to go into the first dance immediately after your entrance? IDK
These are the details I really don’t care about. Thankfully, there are wedding planners. One of the top “Careers I Never Want To Have.” My plan is just to say to her, “Tell me what people do.” Then, I say, “yes” or “no.”
There’s one thing I was sure of, however: I want to enjoy the time with my friends and family. So why on earth would I want to spend my cocktail hour away from them taking pictures? Let’s get those pictures done before the ceremony.
“So you’re going to do a First Look,” my sister Meg said.
“That’s what they call it. He has his back to you, you walk in, and as he turns around the photographer gets his expression.”
“Seriously? You’re kidding me. They have a name for this?!”
I relate this story to a few of my students, one of whom informs me where the “groom doesn’t see the bride before the wedding” thing comes from. “Arranged marriages. They didn’t want the groom to see her, because if he didn’t like what he saw, he might run.” Well, Michael has seen plenty of me. At my best and worst. If he was going to leave, he should have done it by now. So that tradition? Definitely not needed.