Why People Have Weddings

Weddings have always puzzled me. They are grand, elaborate events that seem to stress everyone out more than they bring joy. I’ve attended fewer than a handful, but my one experience as a Maid of Honor was nothing short of a comedy of errors.

Marriage itself seems to be a bit of a mystery to many people today considering it occurs so infrequently. Despite the significance of weddings, they often seem to be more of an attempt to mirror medieval pageantry than to celebrate a relationship. Planning a big wedding is a nightmare, and let’s be honest, has anyone ever said, “I had so much fun at their wedding!”

In 1992, my college friend, Vicki Flowers, asked me to be her Maid of Honor. I was flattered, but little did I know the rollercoaster that awaited me.

During that same call, she told me “We didn’t know who to ask to be Best Man and Maid of Honor. We just realized that we don’t have any friends!” I assumed the nervous bride had misspoken; surely she meant that she didn't have close friends locally.

The Friday evening before I was supposed to drive down to Monterey to help Vicki shop for bridesmaid dresses, a “little” disaster occurred, and I sadly called to cancel my trip. Vicki shopped with just her mother. She had promised that her bridesmaids wouldn’t wear silly costumes, but without supervision, she changed her mind. (Note: If you’re ever asked to be a bridesmaid, start saving immediately. Those dresses cost a fortune!)

I was looking forward to fulfilling the Maid of Honor’s most important job: throwing the bridal shower. However, Vicki told me that her future sister-in-law had taken charge of that. I didn’t receive an invitation and although Vicki didn’t know the precise address of the restaurant where it would be held, she assured me, “You can’t miss it.”

After a very long, early morning drive to Monterey, I could not find the restaurant. It wasn’t in the phone book, so I called her father. He didn’t know any more than I did. I drove around aimlessly for hours. Eventually, I gave up, took the gift to her father, and drove back home.

The wedding day finally arrived. There were tedious hours spent posing for pictures. The other guests clustered in their old high school cliques, while I smiled a lot and tried to start conversations with reluctant strangers. Vicki looked beautiful and seemed to be having a wonderful time until she noticed the hem of her dress had turned black from swishing across the dance floor.

After all the wedding, I never received a postcard from the Hawaiian honeymoon or a picture from the wedding. I assume her parents let her know that I called several times, but I never heard from her again. I wonder... Is she still married? After all that went into the wedding, she damn well better be!

Perhaps that is the true purpose of weddings: to get everyone so invested that they make the marriage succeed, no matter what.