Wedding Bell Blues
There Goes the Bride
Springtime is upon us boys and girls, a time for new beginnings, fresh ideas, warmer weather and 500 million fucking weddings.
This wedding business is seriously traumatizing. I even cancelled my own this spring because the two of us were such neurotic freaks about it that the whole thing simply wasn’t worth hating each other for. Maybe one day we’ll sneak off to Vegas.
I swear to god that the divorce rate is so high because couples end up despising each other during the planning of the wedding but are too stubborn to call it off. “Okay I’m sorry but I have ten million pounds of fresh lobster being flown in from Antarctica, you’re marrying me or I’m telling your mother you sniffed her panties when you were 14.”
What makes planning a wedding so traumatizing? In most cases it’s the parents of the happy couple, especially if all of them are divorced. On your special day, you get to watch your parents act like they’re in junior high around each other and use the event as a knife-twist towards the ex-spouse as you grow ulcers in your gut. Of course every possible scenario pops through your already stressed out brain as to your parents behaviour. You picture your mother-in law tossing her ex’s new wife into your wedding cake. You cringe as you imagine your mother making out with her new boyfriend in front of your dad. You wince as you hear your father’s slurred words at the bar to your grandmother, “God I’m glad she didn’t get her mother’s fat ass.” The possibility for disaster leaves you wishing you were both orphans.
And this is just the icing on the cake folks. You’ve got your mother-in-law whispering in your finance’s ear that pink roses would be lovely * HINT HINT * and even though you despise pink roses, you don’t want the woman to hate you more than she already does for not being good enough for her son, so you suggest to your mother that “pink roses would be nice”. Your mother asks if you’ve been drinking, that pink roses are ugly as sin and since she’s footing the bill for the damn things you’ll have white roses and you’ll like it…..and then when you confess it was the mother-in-law’s idea, your mother proclaims: “What the hell kind of family are you marrying into? Have you thought this through?” Repeat this process ten thousand times for the cake, dress, shoes, bouquet, food, the bride’s underwear, what deodorant she’ll wear on the big day…etc etc etc.
And of course, if you tell your husband-to-be, “Honey, your mother’s a crackhead,” you get bitched at for being uncompromising. Or worse, a fight about how he’s incapable of standing up to his mother ensues and we all know how those go. “YEAH! WELL AT LEAST MY MOM’S NOT AN ASSLICKING WHORE!”
So you see folks, this wedding crap sucks on so many levels, that if you find the need to actually do it, I hear Vegas is nice this time of year. * WINK WINK *