You've heard of "The Runaway Bride"? Well, I'm the runaway guest.
I've been attending weddings since I was 7 years old. I may have enjoyed them as a kid, but as an adult? Please...save yourself a stamp and don't send me an invitation. I won't be offended, I promise.
As my erudite and hilariously funny friend Bill pointed out, just how many times can one hear "And now, for the first time as Mister and Missus, Angela and Frankie will dance to their special song..." along with "And the bride cuts the cake...." before your eyeballs look like glazed doughnuts from sheer boredom? (Excuse me, waiter, where is the exit sign again...?)
So, somewhere in my 30s, I simply decided to stop attending these ridiculous, and expensive, "celebrations" (let me know when the divorce papers are filed) and saved myself a lot of time, money and empty, redundant, forced conversations with people I either don't know, don't care about, or only see at weddings and funerals. And now that I've eliminated funerals too, I guess I'll never see them again.
Just the planning of a full-blown wedding requires the strategic skills of the Pentagon. Seating arrangements? "Don't put me next to Uncle Joe, Cousin Francine, Aunt Rosie, the band or the kitchen!!"
How about sitting outside in the hallway, that okay with you? Or the parking lot? Then you can talk with only cars!
Then there are those pictures. Oh, the poses...so REAL...newlyweds lovingly gazing at each other, the entire brand-new melded smiling family, the bride's family, the groom's family, the bride and her parents, the groom and his parents ~ why not take one of all the waiters too, so they can be included in the inevitable fat white album of boring pictures?
These absurdly excessive days, there are also pre-reception cocktail hours, where guests kiss the air, SO happy to see each other they don't want to mess up their make-up, stuff their faces on every kind of hors d'oeuvre imaginable and drink themselves into a pink state of pure happiness, after which they are escorted into the main reception area, and then the real fun begins...the afore-mentioned grand introduction of bride & groom, their "special song and dance" (as everyone cries or applauds) the irritating clinking of glasses, calling for the cake-toppers to kiss... Wait, it gets worse!
As soon as the appetizer, soup and main course #1 are over, the MUSIC begins! Depending on the taste (and budget) of the darling couple, it will either be a mediocre live band or those tacky "DJs" who mix their own music, volume set to blow your eardrums out.
"Hi, could you please play something from the Sixties?" and then you hear all of your favorite songs, CUT OFF in the middle to segue into your next favorite song, until you're so frustrated, you just want to jump the guy. Hey, I want to hear ALL of Dion's "Runaround Sue" not HALF of it! And those stupid "chicken/electric slide" or whatever the hell dances they're doing these days...it helps if you're drunk, I guess.
After main course #2, the silliness begins. The inevitable "conga line" and "YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT FOOT IN, YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT FOOT OUT ... YOU DO THE HOKEY POKEY, THAT'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT!" More like Hokey Pukey to me.
Another new thing ~ "Venetian Hour" ~ coffee, enough desserts to feed a herd of elephants, the bride & groom cutting the 17-layer cake (more pictures) the line-up of guests (and gifts), the 'favors' ~ used to be white-coated almonds in a white mesh bag, two silver rings and a ribbon, "Frankie and Angela" with the date in scrolling gold writing. Now I hear that a bag of bagels and the next day's newspaper are given out; far more practical. And that breathtaking moment when someone (drum roll) announces the winner of each table's floral centerpiece to take home with them! As if I need more crap at home.
And, of course, the grand finale: The throwing of the bouquet/garter to determine who will be the next lucky person to be married?!! And the placing of the garter on the bouquet-catcher's leg..."HIGHER, HIGHER!" O.M.G.....
Sounds like fun, doesn't it? Try going to a few dozen (or hundreds) of 'em, and then let me know what you think.
Give me a good old Justice of the Peace any day of the week.
