I took today off from my day job. I had a few minor errands to run which wouldn’t really warrant a full day off but the idea of productivity at my own pace was too alluring to resist. Other than the errands, there is plenty for me to work on, as seems to be my journey nowadays, but my stress is at zero percent at the onset of the day. Habitually, I rise early from bed and decide to treat myself to an egg and cheese croissant from the local deli. As I cross the threshold the speakers queue up George Michael’s ‘Careless Whisper’ which adds a welcomed measure of sultriness, which I really appreciate in an egg and cheese. A short few minutes of suppressing a George Michael impersonation precedes my breakfast and I exit the deli just as the song fades out. But before shutting the door I look back at the cashier and make a series of wild assumptions: I feel like she’s picking songs to suit the mood of individuals who enter and that ‘Careless Whisper’ was just for me. I imagine that she’s got a whole secondary career as a DJ and calls herself DJ Delicatessen. I give a slight – almost imperceptible – nod of approval and she recognizes me recognizing her and nods right back. Thank you, DJ Delicatessen. – End scene.
Yeah, we’re a lengthy paragraph in and you still have no idea what this is all about. Exactly correct. You need to take some time to appreciate this ambiance I’m dropping on you right now. Anyway – on the walk home I got to appreciating how fortunate I am – as I find myself doing more frequently. In short, I’m healthy, I’m happy and I’m in love with the best person. And speaking of wins, I crushed my proposal. Nailed it! All that planning and picking out the right ring and asking permission – it all paid off in a huge way when she said “yes.” What a relief! I’m done! I’m finally done, right!?
No sir. Much like when you think ‘Careless Whisper’ can’t possibly get any smoother but then they lay that buttery sax solo on you, I was blindsided by all the minutia and planning that was to come. Ok yeah, I’m a little naïve but forgive me for thinking that my boo had been planning for this her whole life. I think most of my readers know my brand, is that fair? If left up to me, my bride and I are to have a no-frills, light on the self-promotion or spectacle, tactical wedding. Ready? Here’s the plan:
Y’all want to see me and my lady get married? Cool. Come as you are to my brother’s house next Saturday at 6pm. There will be barbecue and drinks. Join us for the after-party at Franky Bradley’s.
Bam! Email sent. Read that shit again real quick. That is a save-the-date, invitation, menu, dress code, ceremony and reception location all within a few lines of text. 1000 bucks, my treat. One problem with that though – I can picture the look on my fiance’s face just reading this completely hypothetical scenario and it’s the look of utter disgust and murderous intent. She’s quite literally, getting physically ill just reading that invitation. And she’s right. The woman is a queen and that would not befit her magnificence.
Problem number two is my list of must-haves for our wedding. And here it is: getting married. Yep, that’s it. I don’t care about flowers or wedding colors or venue or music. I just want to be married to her. You’re going to say “No way. That’s not true. You want the music to be good and your family to be there and good food, etc.” While that is technically true it’s also circumstantial. My counterpoint would be that if my fiancé asked me today to scrap the plans we’ve already made and just elope, I’m all in. Let’s do that shit next weekend, darlin. Why are we bullshittin?
Seriously. She knows who I am. Why would anyone expect me to be invested in planning a big celebration of myself (ourselves)? Is that not the very opposite of who I am as a person? I sometimes exude a boastful air, in jest, but I’m a really humble guy and laid-back to a fault at times. And it’s fair to say that my fiancé has no such deficiency. So, in my mind, it was a fair assumption that she was going shoulder the bulk of the planning and organizing. It’s all about what she wants anyway, right? What do I have to do with it?
And now for the truthiest of truth: I’m only fooling myself. I do care about all of this spectacle and nonsense. I care because she cares. Gentlemen, don’t lead yourselves down the same path of ignorance as I did. The “yes” is only the beginning. You do, in fact, care about linens. You do, in fact, care about floral arrangements. You do want a photo-booth and that singer at that event that you didn’t attend but was so magical you just have to have her at your ceremony. If your lady is like mine, she knows exactly what she wants. She genuinely cares about what you want too, as long as it agrees with what she wants. And that’s perfectly fine because it’s not of much consequence to us, remember? You have to be present for this because she needs to know she has a partner to share the burden with when the occasion presents. Sometimes you just have to hold hands when you don’t feel like it.
One parting word of wisdom that will likely cost you money but save you sanity: If your fiancé makes a request twice and you ignore or deny it twice, the third request is not really a request. Right? Right? Right.