I really don’t like weddings.
It’s not just the inevitable end result of them - being married and all that. It’s how weird they are. Weddings are the Speedo on the beach of social gatherings.
Why do we need to witness this? I mean, I’m happy for you and all, but where does the audience thing end? And why is there an audience at all?
We don’t all gather when someone buys a car, or a house. Basically the same financial (and often, time) commitment, yet here we are, going about our day without having to travel, dress up, talk to people, buy a gift, or stand around witnessing our friends signing a loan.
“I bought a new car today!”
“Oh cool! What kind?”
Done and done.
Watching people kiss is at best uncomfortable, at worst disgusting if they’re being all loud about it. I get urpy just passing by that sort of thing. Kissing someone in front of an audience is frowned upon and referred to as “porn” by many, yet everyone oohs and ahhs when you do it after some jovial guy in a grey suit, creepy guy in a black robe, or hearty lesbian in a pants suit pronounces you a couple.
If the point of weddings is the promise of future generations, I suppose I should be grateful we don’t have to stand around and witness that process, too. Also, super awkward if it’s not a straight couple.
“Wait, why are we watching this again?”
“It’s tradition.”
“But… do we really think Ethan and Dan are going to create little farmhands here?”
Also, why is it our job to stock your home with expensive items you’re most likely going to fight over later in the settlement?
These days it’s more transparent: infuse cash money into the account at the website NancynPetesBougieLiving.com. You can follow your cash on Instagram as they post pickled selfies from Mexico, basking by the pool holding cocktails at the resort you paid for. Tune in early enough you’ll see pictures of the first class seats you paid for on the way there.
But it used to be we’d have to buy entire place settings of Spode or Lenox china, or Tiffany silverware. I mean, are you even married if you don’t have fish knives? Lots of people would go rogue and buy vases and deviled egg platters and mystifying table-top statuary, always expensive, almost always stuff you’d put in a cabinet and either save for special occasions or “regift.” For that it was important to remember two things: who gave you the gift in the first place, so you didn’t give it back to them, and to take out the card it came with so the regifted didn’t get the original card to you in the gift to them, somewhere buried in the blue and white tissue paper.
It was understood that it wasn’t what you gave, but that you gave that mattered. Returning wedding gifts for cash or exchange was common, so the fact that you were giving some hideously ghastly item to your friend (that someone had given to you) made no difference. As long as your gift-giving obligation was met, you were good.
Which is why I had a problem at my boyfriend’s roommate’s wedding.
I knew the groom, Jim, pretty well; knew her as well. I can’t remember if I’d been invited directly or if I was the plus one, but there I was, standing next to said boyfriend, waiting in line to congratulate the couple, staring at the gift table behind them. It loomed ever-larger as we approached.
I’d forgotten to get a gift.
But there was a pen resting on the guest book.
The reception wore on as they are wont to do, with passed canapes and mediocre champagne. It was held in a restored former residence of one of Boston’s snooty Brahmin, and there were thick rugs everywhere, which was hell on those of us wearing heels, but excellent for masking footsteps making repeated trips to the gift table in the foyer, should anyone have noticed.
Over the course of a couple of hours I carefully opened each available envelope on a box or bag and added “and Marjie” to the gift cards.
From Aunt Julie and Uncle Stan and Marjie
From Jill and Marjie
From Stephen & Brad and Marjie
Then I resealed the envelopes as best I could. Let me tell you, those pricey stores use killer glue.
I was quite pleased. While, sure, I’d neglected to remember a gift, no one could deny the time and effort that had gone into making sure they knew I was thinking of them when it came to the gifting aspect of the day.
Which is why I was baffled by the fury directed my way the next day when the groom called us.
It’s not like I’d written on the gifts, for heaven’s sake.
Though in hindsight…
No, that would have been overkill. And it’s not easy to write on bone china.
Better to stay with the subtle for things like this.
At any rate, no surprise when I wasn’t invited to his next wedding. I wasn’t going to buy him anything anyway, with an attitude like that.
Morning Teaistisms
Thanksgiving is my holiday, and that’s this week here in the US. Not for any colonizer mythology hogwash, but because it has zero religious significance or saluting involved. Also, unlike any of the other holidays we sort of celebrate, Thanksgiving is when family and chosen family gathers around my table for a few hours, and then snacks on leftovers for another couple of days playing games, watching TV, and otherwise ignoring each other in happy companionship. It’s extended time with the people I want to spend time with the most.
I also like apples, oranges, cloves, ginger, and things like that, so it’s around Thanksgiving that I scrounge for teas that fit that bill in some way.
The back of the tea drawer yielded Yogi’s Orange Clove tea tonight, to which I added sliced apples.
Alone it’s what I’d deem a “perfectly fine” tea, but with apples added to it, steeped in the hot water along with the tea bag and a little sugar, it’s quite yummy and Thanksgivingy and peaceful.
One more comment about weddings, here where my mom is never going to see it, as opposed to on your facebook page with public settings.....I found out a year after I'd kicked out the live-in boyfriend that my mom had bought a "mother of the bride" dress, fully expecting an announcement in the opposite direction. She loooooves weddings. Her offspring are a huge source of disappointment: I never had so much as a fiance, and my brother got married at city hall when they were expecting their second child, only so my sister-in-law could get on his health insurance plan. (Tangential comment about the second child. My sister-in-law told me, "Your family is upset our son was never baptized, mine is upset he didn't have a bris.")
Marjie, that was FABULOUS! I snort-laughed (how attractive) reading it because it's all so true and comical. You have this great writing style making the reader visualize every line! Keep it up!!!!