I Now Pronounce You Finished With Weddings

Weddings are sometimes the most joyous and special occasions in a person’s life. Sometimes they are small and quiet, sometimes they are loud and illegal, and sometimes there is a tidy little mix of all of those things to make what one would call the perfect nuptial ceremony.
The problem with searching for that perfect wedding is that the searcher, in this case, me, has to attend a lot of weddings. I think I had five slated for 2008 and its entirely possible that I’ve forgotten one at some point. And none of them have been too similar, save for those ironclad wedding touchstones that must be included to have a great wedding experience.
Usually the mothers don’t get along.
Someone on the groom’s side of the wedding party will lose his clothes, perhaps his dignity.
The cake gets up the nose, no matter how classy or covert, a bride and groom bent on sophistication get a hand full of cake and realize that this might be only one of two or three marriages they’ll have, they should take the opportunity to shove cake in the other person’s face.
If there is a little girl in a white dress somewhere at the party, her parents will allow her to eat only sugar and she will dance harder and longer than ten other guests, after which she will wail and cry and sometimes fall asleep with parts of her dress over her head.
The brides will look beautiful.
The grooms will look relieved.
The celebrant or priest will leave his microphone on and share with the congregation every guest’s favorite thing-to-hear from someone in charge: "Okay, what are we doing next?"
Every speaker giving a speech seems to be "Not good at speaking in public."
Everyone with a heart in their chest cries a little during the Father of the Bride dance.
In short, it’s a wedding. For an unmarried person peeking around the corner at thirty, I’d say I’ve been to more than my fair share. With some people I know getting married twice (I don’t have any thirds yet) I’ve seen enough to know what I like and what I don’t like. Having worked catering events for another twenty or so weddings, I know what should happen and what shouldn’t - -

IE there should not be blended drinks at a wedding with more than four people.
IE whoever is in charge should assume the party will go two hours longer than planned
IE in the event that the groom is quite drunk, only female caterers should attend to the bride.

This most recent wedding was located in Ohio and featured my girlfriend’s little sister. This meant, by proxy, I was to be on the front lines of this event - included in box carrying and errand running but without any real responsibilities to speak of. This also meant I could wear what I wanted, disappear for short periods of time without anyone wondering where I’d gone, and be included on the short list for the Father of the Bride’s 15 year-old single malt scotch. I did get this conversation at least three times during the evening:
"I know you," someone would say.
"Yes, hello."
"You’re Krissy’s boyfriend and you have a funny name."
"Ahh, that is true on both accounts."
"I’m (relation)(first name) and this is (relation)(first name)."
"Nice to meet you both, I’m Mat."
"Well that’s not that funny," perplexed, drinking wine, dancing in the grass.
"Yes, you’re referring to Snappy, my other name."
"That’s what it is, I thought someone said Slappy, but I couldn’t understand why anyone this handsome would be voluntarily called Slappy."
"Yes, Snappy is long for my short last name, Snapp."
"Well, we’ve heard only good things so far, and they weren’t kidding about the handsome."
"Yes, I know."
"I mean really, I was just saying to (relation)(first name) how the rest of Krissy’s boyfriends have been downright slovenly, and you, well I’ll just say it again, handsome. Don’t you think he’s handsome (first name)."
"Yes," (first name) says, shaking my hand in a fatherly manner. "Handsome," (first name) and (first name) sigh together.

(I’ll paraphrase like that when the conversations get long like that one was.)

The major thematic points are there, so we’ll stop. My name isn’t Mat anymore, its Snappy. I neglected to tell the gathered extended family members that Snappy was actually short for Snappy-Pants, a name that I am apparently resurrecting for the moment.
While being handsome was my primary achievement at this wedding, it also marked the first time since grade school I’ve been scolded by a priest, the first time I’ve had a bloody mary in a plastic martini glass, and in the aftermath, the first time I’ve been involved in the making or drinking of a punch-bucket.
The bride in this wedding is too young to have as much grace as she has. The groom is too old to have his mother tell him how to wear his sleeves in his wedding pictures. They both held it together admirably, and as I sat in the church, looking handsome, I began mentally dictating vows that I’d like to hear instead of the ones that I always end up hearing.
Wouldn’t it be nice, for example, if one attended a celebrity wedding and heard the following.
"I, Famous ActorMan, take you, Famous ActorLady, to be my private-life co-star. I will love and honor you while our movies are being released, I will cherish you in public until you end up in the What’s Not or Summer’s Biggest Weight Gains section of the tabloids, I will be your husband and soulmate for a little while or until we’re old enough that no one remembers we’re still married. Just look at Al Pacino, people forget that Beverly D’Angelo is married to him, but she is. They share a sink, can you even imagine that? Sharing a sink with Serpico? What if you burn the eggs, do you think he yells with the veins in his face popping out while Beverly D’Angelo makes eggs? I bet he doesn’t. Maybe she yells, maybe that’s where Pacino got it and we’re all in the dark about it. Till death or ratings do us part. Amen."
And likely even more hysterical would be if the celebrant had these new honest vows ahead of time and would coach the bride and groom through them.
"Place the ring on the bride’s finger and repeat after me," the priest would say. "I Groom give you this ring."
"I, Groom, give you this ring."
"Because you, Bride, love diamonds and also diamond jewelry..." the priest leads, his voice solemn, penitent, holy.
"Because you, Bride, love diamonds and also diamond jewelry..."
"And because without this ring..."
"And because without this ring..."
"You’d likely not take me with you to Puerto Villarta..."
"You’d likely not take me with you to Puerto Villarta..."
"Or wear that new lingerie that I found in your carry-on luggage," the priest leads, his timbre so soft, his tone so marital.
"Or wear that new lingerie that I found in your carry-on luggage."
"Or do that one thing you promised you’d do on our honeymoon, that thing that you did that one time when we were staying at the Bellagio."
"Or do that one thing you promised you’d do on our honeymoon, that thing that you did that one time when we were staying at the Bellagio."

Right? Talk about your entertainment. Much more entertaining than having the priest ask for a quiet audience at the rehearsal and then threaten to "kick you out of the wedding" if he thinks you’ve been drinking alcohol. Sure, I was so drunk at the rehearsal I didn’t hear him, but someone told me later - and boy I’ll tell you - if he’d have been at the rehearsal dinner (wait, he was at the rehearsal dinner) I’d have taken my goddamn cocktail (you two drank a scotch on the balcony of the restaurant, he’s pretty cool actually) and poured it into his smug Priesty face, and how!!
Unfortunately for the gathered masses, the only one who didn’t heed this warning seemed to be the organist. That little water bottle she always had with her wasn’t suspicious until she absolutely slaughtered that musical interlude of the Lord’s Prayer. As an organist, in a church, at a wedding, having played organ for likely half of her sixty years on this earth, you’d think that the Lord’s Prayer would be one she could handle with her eyes closed. Maybe someone spilled crazy glue on her keyboard. Maybe someone taped her fingers together.

And then we’d have the bride’s giving of the rings. . .
"Place the ring on the groom’s finger and repeat after me," the priest would start. "I Bride give you this ring."
"I, Bride, give you this ring."
"As a symbol of ownership," the priest says.
"As a symbol of ownership," the bride echoes, her voice cracking with sweetness.
"To keep at bay all those twenty-three year old hippie sluts."
"To keep at bay all those twenty-three year old hippie sluts."
"And whores," the priest reminds.
"And whores," the bride says, nodding, smiling.
"That seem to practically live in your office building."
"That seem to practically live in your office building."
"And always show up at your happy hours."
"And always show up at your happy hours."
"I will love and honor you."
"I will love and honor you."
"Despite what my mother says about the men in your family."
"Despite what my mother says about the men in your family."
"And I will definitely do that thing that I told you I would do on our honeymoon, that same thing that I did that one time when we were at the Bellagio," the priest says, closing his book.
"And I will definitely do that thing that I told you I would do on our honeymoon, that same thing that I did that one time when we were at the Bellagio."

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you for the very first time. . .

Congratulations to Francesca&Casey, Scott&Angie, Alex&Diana (good luck to Caitlin&Matt) and all the other Brides and Grooms that 2008 has brought together. . . I leave you all with advice.
1. Change your locks - a new life should start with a new set of security rules.
2. Give up something important to do absolutely nothing with each other.
3. You’re married, sure, but don’t share a toothbrush. Gingivitis is never sexy.
4. Buy an apron, and never cook the bacon naked.
5. You may prepare baked goods naked, as bits of chocolate are fun to find.
(These bits of advice may also apply to Empty Nesters who can’t seem to cry about it)