UGH, Weddings…

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Every little girl dreams of a big white dress and a beautiful ceremony and pretty flowers and blah blah blegh. I’m so sick of the phrase “Ever since I was a little girl…”. I get it, you play with your barbie dolls and you create their lives based on the Telenovela plots you’ve been subjected to while you were staying at your grandmother’s. There’s drama involved, and there’s this and there’s that and then they overcome their troubles and get married at last. Because that’s the ultimate goal in life, right? What happens after they tie the knot and a bunch of little baby dolls appear? Does Barbie ever realize that she doesn’t have a vagina in between her dress fittings? Does Ken ever realize that he’s gay? Did your Barbie and Ken ever get a divorce because he cheated on her with Bill? If my memory serves me right there was a Bill in that dysfunctional family somewhere…

Either way, those two seem to have set a standard for girls everywhere to make it a priority to have “The Wedding”. Moving into adulthood, we stop playing with dolls and start playing with ourselves. Pun intended. Then we start playing with others and finally we find the one. Well some do, and some think they do, and some are just too eager about the act of marriage itself. So naturally the planning development starts. That’s a process in itself and is a very important aspect of “The Wedding”. Oh the options! Oh the frustrations! The term “Bridezilla” then emerges in the English language. You’ve seen the movies and the TV shows. You now feel that you must relate to all the other women that are faced with this incredibly stressful task of planning the singular most important and most incredible day of their lives. Naturally it would just be wrong to derail from the general bride-to-be’s itinerary. As expected, you start bitching and freaking out cause Oh ‘Em Gee, god forbid shit doesn’t go your way and lilac is off by a shade and that’s one too many flowers in the bouquet, and holy wedding bells, the cake is four and a half minutes late, what are we going to do…

Here’s what really boggles my mind though. So you spend all this time, picking out the venue and the perfect dress, you send out the “Save The Date” cards, and whatnot.. Then the day finally arrives, and what do you do? You make sure you remember it by taking a million pictures of course! Pose this way; pose that way; now look at her like you want to spend the rest of your lives together; now look at him like he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you; now hold her up; now stand behind her as she pretends to fall while opening her mouth just slightly and covering it with half her hand because she’s oh so scared, but you’re there to catch her; now stare off into space like you’re both looking into your future….. Can you be more generic? I get it, it looks cool and you’ll have beautiful photos from your wedding day to look through in the future, but you’re spending more time taking pictures than you’re actually enjoying each other. Isn’t that what this day is supposed to be about? Or is that reserved for “the rest of your life”? If that’s the case I guess it makes sense that you’re put to work on your actual wedding day, doing various poses and whatnot instead of being with your guests and being yourself around your now husband/wife.

And the funny thing is when I first started bartending at weddings, I thought they were beautiful. Since then, let me tell you, I’ve seen the good the bad and the ugly, mostly bad and ugly. Sure it was sentimental and adorable at first, but now it’s just so banal that it makes me want to hurl. The toasts are atrocious – There’s nothing worse than a bridesmaid who reads her toast without any emotion, and way too fast mind you. It’s as if she’s in a race with herself – who can finish first, her or her dignity. Either way, she loses. It’s just so impersonal and annoying, ugh. The introductions are too, lame and imitative. The cake is usually boring. Everything is just so rehearsed and nauseating. If it’s supposed to be the biggest day of your life (yuck, obviously, because there are so many days AFTER the wedding that are way more important), then why not make it actually memorable? And I don’t mean going extravagant because then the question of money comes in and not everyone can afford “ridiculous”. But we can all afford a little “crazy”. Have a cake that’s actually going to surprise people for once by not being BEIGE or red velvet or some shit. Wear a dress that doesn’t make you walk or sit funny. Don’t throw a bouquet of flowers; throw a bottle of Jameson instead. Change the tradition from “who’ll get married next” to “who’s definitely getting trashed tonight”. Anything! Step outside of the boundaries that the society has instilled in you, and you’ll have a chance to have a great party to celebrate your life, love, and happiness.

 

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Color me bitter: ditched chick destroys own bridal gown.

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I love chaos and destroying shit.

And I guess it’s one of those shared human experiences ’cause this chick decided she felt the same way:

(Well, she might have had a slightly better excuse than I usually do.)

The story’s that she got the groom-to-be’s boot just a few days before their wedding. Dude allegedly called her up and told her he “didn’t love her anymore”. Thus, she was suddenly left with a bunch of wasted money on services and catering and whatever else you people like to go into debt over to delude yourselves into acting like royalty for a day. I can’t help but interject and ask: why do people waste so much money on weddings? It’s like one of those big events you mentally transmogrify into something so massively daunting that it can’t help but self-destruct (or come really close). Throw enough money and stress at a life-long knot making moment, and someone’s bound to start buying a pair of track kicks to go with their tux.

Seeing as this particular chick indeed chose the traditionally favored route of financial rut-ness, she was now stuck with an overpriced dress and unsure of what to do to get over the pain of this last minute rejection. Then, she took the advice of her photographer: a “trash the dress” photo session. Really, I’m trying to find a way to pick apart this spectacle and chastise it somehow – but I actually love it. And none of the reasons have anything to do with an act of defiance against some dude who caught a case of cold feet. I mean, look at it – you’ve got your friends and family getting lost in that glee coated chaos that’s unfolding around you (always fun seeing people outta their element and acting like children). Plus, it’s like a cinematic food fight – except instead of wasting perfectly edible sustenance, you’re making a fantastic article of fashion to be modeled on a bridal mannequin in a local boutique later (which she did do). Screw a fiancée or cancelled matrimony or all this general bitterness I’m witnessing.

I’d just go and do this shiz just for fun.

Or – better yet – for my official “un-wedding” party I need to have.

It can be like my own Jackson Pollock twist on that one Sex and the City episode where Carrie Bradshaw decides to marry herself. Except instead of registering at a shoe store, I’ll be registered – a registered sex offender, that is, by the end of the debacle when I’m streaking through the streets slathered in a peacock flavored collage of gouache. And totally sober. Yes, this will be my stay-single ceremony as I ritualistically seal my bond with my higher self.

Invite friends and family to partake, buy myself a giant ring, and wear it on my middle finger.

And then show it off a lot when people ask if I’m married yet.

Afterthoughts:

What if we’re only getting one side of a story here?

And like, she cheated on him? And that’s why he left last minute?

‘cause that’s what I’d do if I were the dude. Pretend I’m still gonna marry you, get your hopes up, and then… poof!

Ninja smoke.