Diary of a Bride-to-Be No. 3
Diary of a Bride-to-Be No. 3 – Two weeks to the wedding, and all hell has broken lose. My fiancé, Matthew, who has been the sweetest, most flexible, helpful groom a girl could ask for throughout the whole wedding planning process, has suddenly put his patriarchal foot down. And when a Roman Catholic tax attorney from Massachusetts puts his foot down, it’s like rush hour in Los Angeles. It just won’t budge.
Keep in mind; Matthew is a total Prince William type. He played polo and lacrosse in college, sits on the Board of Directors at the local hospital, and comes from a long line of impeccably bred East-coast elitists. So why, why, why would a man with all that taste and breeding, be insisting on personalized Rubik’s Cubes as our wedding favors? The first time he mentioned it, I burst out laughing. But when he didn’t join me, I looked at him again. “Matty, you’re not serious?” I asked. “Marriage is a puzzle,” he said wisely. “It can take years or even decades to crack, just like a Rubik’s Cube. C’mon A, I thought you were the analytical type.”
I was stunned. Analytical? I was an English major, for heaven’s sake, and from a purely metaphorical standpoint, Rubik’s Cubes are analytically awful. Our wedding guests are not traveling from everywhere from New Jersey to Nova Scotia to be thanked with a cheesy cracker jacks prize. Wedding favors are supposed to reflect gratitude, sincerity and everlasting love. Weddings favors are supposed to be cherished for all of eternity, a special keepsake to remind guests of your special day, not remind them of the eighties. And now Matthew wanted to make a mockery of the whole thing.
In the days that followed, I suggested every unique wedding favor I could think of. “Personalized golf balls?” I suggested. “Specialty hot sauce?” “Bubbles?” But Matthew would not be deterred from his personal notion of the perfect wedding favor.
After my alternative wedding favor ideas were exhausted, I switched to other methods. I begged. I pleaded. I massaged, and when nothing else worked, I did the only thing I could do: I mixed drinks.
And it was there, with the martini shaker in one hand and a glass in the other, it came to me. I had just seen it on a website the other day, this brand new wedding favor idea that would be perfect for Matt and I. I ran to the computer, still shaking the martini in one hand. “Matt,” I screamed. “Hey Matty!”
He moseyed out of the den, Bombay on the rocks already in hand. “C’mere,” I said, gesturing excitedly with my free hand. “I found it! I found the perfect wedding favor!”
He hunkered down to look at the screen. “Personalized Wedding Cocktail Flavors,” he read, eying the jaunty striped package that read “Perfectly Blended.” “A single serving drink mix sealed in a glossy pouch, containing 11 ounces of powdered drink mix….” He read. “Oh, and it even comes with instructions on the back on how to mix the cocktail?” Matt said.
I nodded. “Yep, and the best part is you can personalize them with the bride and groom name and wedding date! Isn’t that a cool idea? These will be the most fun wedding favors ever!”
“Wait a second though,” Matt said. “My family’s all WASP’s. We like vodka neat at eleven a.m., whereas as your Tuscaloosa clan is more partial to the Alabama slammer. I don’t think we could pick just one cocktail to suit everyone’s taste.”
“No, Matt,” I said pointing to the screen. “See they’re personalized, which means we get to pick and choose the flavors. It says here they have everything from margaritas to cosmos, so there’s no need for a cocktail civil war.”
“Wow Annabelle,” Matt said. ” You really do think of everything. I guess this really is a perfect wedding favor for our friends and family.”
“Not just for them Matty,” I said, gesturing to the glass in his hand and the martini shaker in mine. “For us. You like your drink straight up and I like mine shaken and stirred, but deep down we’re both gin lovers. It’s just like us. Our ideas may come out a little differently sometimes, but deep down we’re made of the same great stuff.”
He leaned over and pulled me in for a hug. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and winked. Now how’s that for analytics?