Are you ready for the war of the weddings?
Folks are tied up in knots over tying the knot.
Just when we thought marriage was a dying institution, the Wall Street Journal cites statistics showing there is a huge pent-up demand for weddings.
Because of COVID-19 restrictions, the backlog of ceremonies stretches well into 2024.
Competition for venues, accessories and services has generated unprecedented stress.
Yes, the wedding industry faces the same supply-chain woes as other businesses. Concerns about merchandise stranded offshore abound. Forget “The Hunt for Red October.” Now the obsession is “the Hunt for Shipping Containers of Butt-Ugly Bridesmaid Dresses.”
It’s not just photographers, caterers and hairstylists who are raising rates. Even flower girls and ring bearers are driving a hard bargain. (“Aunt Cyndi, I know blood is thicker than water, but gold bullion is thicker than either. KA-CHING! I’m doing the Morrison wedding.”)
Families have used both begging and bribery to secure the desired private beach, converted horse stable or cathedral for the nuptials. Let’s analyze this, grooms. If your future father-inlaw is willing to spend $25,000 to get someone to switch their wedding date and appease Daddy’s Little Girl, you’d better not honeymoon in Japan, or Bridezilla will be stomping everyone from Mothra on down.
Really, I’m not here to mock doting parents. Sometimes engaged couples just have a simple misunderstanding. (“Oh, it’s student loans the government is talking about forgiving! I thought they were going to forgive flocks-of-bejeweled-peacocks-spelling-out-thecouple’s-names loans. I always get those two mixed up.”)
I dearly wish America could get over the myth that The Big Day must be the highlight of a couple’s life. It’s a mere beginning. I’m glad entrepreneurs don’t buy into the Most Important Day of My Life philosophy. (“Forget innovation, expansion and franchises! I’ve still got my oversize scissors and that length of red ribbon. That’s all that matters.”)
I realize couples want to share a perfect day with as many of their loved ones as possible. But is it worth freaking out over mailing an embossed “Save the Day” invitation to every sorority sister, every incontinent childhood neighbor, Unibrow Guy from the IT department and those Viking cousins whom Ancestry.com tracked down?
And shouldn’t “loved ones” and “special people” be getting lullabies or hugs? Nowadays they’re more likely to be the recipient of “What part of RSVP don’t you understand???” or “We’re registered at Fort Knox, the Louvre and ZIP Codes R Us” or “Sorry, but your conjoined twin counts as your ‘plus one.’”
Most engaged couples seem determined to persevere and achieve perfection even if it means a long engagement; but others are slowly facing cold reality and downsizing. (Hey, my wife and I had a simple, low-budget ceremony and reception. Who needs ice sculptures when you have nearly enough crushed ice for the store-brand punch?)
These sadder but wiser people do draw a few lines in the sand. (“Okay, we’ll confine the father-daughter dance to a cubicle, but a magenta printer cartridge is nonnegotiable!”)
A few people are even uttering the dreaded capitulation “I guess we could always… elope.” My parents eloped and did fine; but the couples who say, “I guess we could always… elope” mouth it with the same intonation as declaring, “I hear they grew the boutonnieres with hobo feces.”
Save the date? Save my sanity! I’ll hide in a shipping container. Let me know when all this is over.