As many of you know, I’m locking that down. The date is coming quickly and we are both ready for it to get here. The whole process is extremely stressful and I’m not even really doing that much. I went to a few meetings, made a few phone calls, and feigned interest at certain moments of minutia.
She has taken on the bulk of the responsibility and she’s doing an excellent job so far. At one point we thought about eloping. There was too much stress, too many expectations to be met. But we missed that window of opportunity. The down-payments have been made, so here we go.
We’re in our late 20’s which means nearly every one of our weekends for the next 4 years will be occupied by someone else’s wedding. We’ve gone to our fair share already. Every wedding we’ve attended we put under intense scrutiny. Like an offensive coordinator reviewing game tape. Thanks to Krish Mohan for the metaphor.
The recent definition of a successful , or “nice” weddings, in my opinion, is starting to approach the ludicrous. The average wedding in America costs $25,631. These funds, if used in a financially responsible manner, would put a down payment on a 6 bedroom house in Oakmont. Instead the money that our families saved up for years and years will be going into a one-night ripper, complete with an open bar, a festive DJ, and a cake that costs as much as some people’s mortgage payments. Then we fly off to a decadent Caribbean getaway and live like royalty for 7 days before returning to Pittsburgh and our jobs and our bills and the grocery store.
Contrast that with how my Grandparents got married. It was on Tuesday, they had friends over for sandwiches in their basement, and they went to Cleveland for their honeymoon. I guess the Depression was still fresh enough in everyone’s minds not to be living like a free-loading descendant of a Rockefeller.
One of the many great things about getting married is that you are showered with gifts multiple times over. We have so much nice stuff coming in, I don’t even know where to put it all. Our kitchen is literally the size of an office cubicle. I’m not sure where we’re going to put 135 unique pieces of Fiestaware. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…Paprika colored Fiestaware.
Throughout the process, my lady has been on top of it all. If it was left to me, our wedding would be a dimly lit, flowerless, warehouse party. We’d have beer, maybe some Guitar Hero but that’d probably be it. But with her at the helm, this thing’s going to actually be fun.
Somewhere in this very expensive distraction is the point of it all: happiness. And even though I may start to doze off in hour three of the “which table-cloth will your grandma find least offensive” conversation or roll my eyes when the votive candle count is a point of contention, the whole thing is still about happiness. That’s why so much effort goes into these things: everyone wants everyone else to be happy. Sometimes it makes people miserable in the process. But when the day comes, and you hear someone literally pledging to have your back no matter what, it washes all that tension away.
And the good thing is…I only plan on doing this once.