A couple of weeks ago a friend forwarded this Bridezilla email article, and I read it, slack-jawed at the bride's self-importance and horrible spelling. I had never seen a more beautiful thing. Fiancé insisted it must be fake, because how could this person possibly have friends?
But behind our laughter lurked the fact that I had no Vision. Apparently, every girl imagines her wedding day. Then your Vision becomes sharper when he puts a ring on it. You see everything laid out in exquisite detail: the flowers, the table settings, the chairs, the invitations, the weather, the exact number of birds allowed to fly past. At that point, you may or may not transform into Bridezilla, a creature so captured by its own Vision that it terrorizes everyone in sight. My sister, who got married last year, remained herself, which might have caused Fragrant Mother to morph into Mamazilla, she who wears a sour face during the wedding planning process. After all, someone has to be a -zilla, and mother nobly stepped up.
But, being a freak of nature, I was enamored with the idea of just popping into City Hall, chatting with a Justice of the Peace for 10 minutes, signing the forms, and skipping out for a fabulous honeymoon involving business class seats, luxurious suites, powder-like sand, and oceans bluer than the eyes of someone with big blue eyes. As a goal-oriented modern lady, I focused on the impending marriage, y'know, that lifelong partnership between two compatible people, rather than the wedding.
Fiancé resisted. You see, he had a Vision: himself and his bride on a beach, surrounded by family and friends. He would be barefoot. He would wear preppy clothes. As the process-oriented member of our team, he saw the wedding as a crucial step toward marriage. It would affirm our love and commitment to each other in front of the ones we love.
"I don't think we need to do that in front of other people," I said one day.
"Fine," he retorted. "But I hope you're prepared for the consequences of not having a wedding."
THE CONSEQUENCES OF NOT HAVING A WEDDING! Faced with this dark and ominous prospect, I submitted to my future groom's will.
Then we hit a snag. Even though he had the Vision, he expected me to want to plan the wedding, because tradition chains us to preconceived notions despite evidence to the contrary. The bride plans. The groom says yes to everything, perks up during the tastings, and shows up on the big day. Those ideas had embedded themselves into his mind. So for two months we would say, "So...wedding?" to each other, and then shrug.
Finally, one night his Vision spoke to him, and the next morning, he suggested we go check out this place downtown with spectacular views. I told my coworkers, all of whom immediately advised me which places we should also check out. Off we went!
During the tours, the sales managers looked to me for questions and answers, and I stared back blankly. Fiancé heroically grew into his role as planner. He asked all the questions -- what are the minimum fees, what about gratuity, will there be transportation from hotels, etc. All the managers we talked to proved wonderful with sharing all that, and more! They had lists of menus, flower shops, chair rental places, photographers, and every other small business involved in the shebang. (FYI -- go for Longwood Events if you're in the Boston area. They have multiple locations, all excellent.)
We're now reserving our chosen spot -- why yes, there's a beach -- and the manager asked for information, including this gem:
Main Contact for Planning Purposes First & Last Name (usually Bride):
"Not me!" said I. Fiancé named himself. And thus, the legend of Groomzilla is born.
But behind our laughter lurked the fact that I had no Vision. Apparently, every girl imagines her wedding day. Then your Vision becomes sharper when he puts a ring on it. You see everything laid out in exquisite detail: the flowers, the table settings, the chairs, the invitations, the weather, the exact number of birds allowed to fly past. At that point, you may or may not transform into Bridezilla, a creature so captured by its own Vision that it terrorizes everyone in sight. My sister, who got married last year, remained herself, which might have caused Fragrant Mother to morph into Mamazilla, she who wears a sour face during the wedding planning process. After all, someone has to be a -zilla, and mother nobly stepped up.
But, being a freak of nature, I was enamored with the idea of just popping into City Hall, chatting with a Justice of the Peace for 10 minutes, signing the forms, and skipping out for a fabulous honeymoon involving business class seats, luxurious suites, powder-like sand, and oceans bluer than the eyes of someone with big blue eyes. As a goal-oriented modern lady, I focused on the impending marriage, y'know, that lifelong partnership between two compatible people, rather than the wedding.
Fiancé resisted. You see, he had a Vision: himself and his bride on a beach, surrounded by family and friends. He would be barefoot. He would wear preppy clothes. As the process-oriented member of our team, he saw the wedding as a crucial step toward marriage. It would affirm our love and commitment to each other in front of the ones we love.
"I don't think we need to do that in front of other people," I said one day.
"Fine," he retorted. "But I hope you're prepared for the consequences of not having a wedding."
THE CONSEQUENCES OF NOT HAVING A WEDDING! Faced with this dark and ominous prospect, I submitted to my future groom's will.
Then we hit a snag. Even though he had the Vision, he expected me to want to plan the wedding, because tradition chains us to preconceived notions despite evidence to the contrary. The bride plans. The groom says yes to everything, perks up during the tastings, and shows up on the big day. Those ideas had embedded themselves into his mind. So for two months we would say, "So...wedding?" to each other, and then shrug.
Finally, one night his Vision spoke to him, and the next morning, he suggested we go check out this place downtown with spectacular views. I told my coworkers, all of whom immediately advised me which places we should also check out. Off we went!
During the tours, the sales managers looked to me for questions and answers, and I stared back blankly. Fiancé heroically grew into his role as planner. He asked all the questions -- what are the minimum fees, what about gratuity, will there be transportation from hotels, etc. All the managers we talked to proved wonderful with sharing all that, and more! They had lists of menus, flower shops, chair rental places, photographers, and every other small business involved in the shebang. (FYI -- go for Longwood Events if you're in the Boston area. They have multiple locations, all excellent.)
We're now reserving our chosen spot -- why yes, there's a beach -- and the manager asked for information, including this gem:
Main Contact for Planning Purposes First & Last Name (usually Bride):
"Not me!" said I. Fiancé named himself. And thus, the legend of Groomzilla is born.
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