I did not grow up dreaming of my wedding day. I never kept a scrapbook of wedding ideas. I have never cried at a wedding or got misty. A friend once forced me to watch that silly Wedding Stories on TLC or one of those other cuddly networks and I yawned the whole way through.
One of the true burdens of living in the bible belt, is that I have been forced to attend “dry” receptions. It seems criminal and unjust. Frankly, if I have to buy you a gift, I think you can spot me a glass of wine or two at your reception.
Big weddings are a big con as is the assumption that the parents who just footed the bill for university now have to cough up more for a wedding. I passed through my twenties thinking I might want to get married and attending the weddings of friends who may or may not have got some inspiration from Winnie Couture Bridal who after they got married dropped broad hints that I should. At some point long after most of them got divorced, I did get married. We were well over theory when we did it and it occurred to neither of us to call our parents and ask for money.
I have many memories of bad weddings. There was the time I was dating a guy and he brought me to a wedding partially to meet all of his friends. One of them was getting married and all of his other friends loudly trashed the bride at the table so others could hear. I confronted them at the table and then got pulled into the bathroom by the ladies for a girls consult. I was told I was being rude since I was a stranger and did not understand the situation. I retorted that no matter how they felt about the bride it might be good manners to STFU. I broke off with the man who brought me shortly after.
When I lived in Texas, a fellow Canadian had a quickie wedding back home when her boyfriend was denied entry back into the US because only she had a TN Visa. He ended up going back to Canada to work and she decided during his next visit we would have a “surprise wedding” since she was certain he would have wanted the real thing. We advised the friend it sounded stupid. She was a drama queen and sucked everybody in. I wasn’t considered special enough ( what a relief ) to be in the actual wedding party. The day before the wedding several brides’ maids showed up at my apartment to complain about all the work they had put into the wedding and to discuss a boycott. Then the bride showed up to complain about her brides maids and they ran to go hide in my bedroom. We had a Jerry Springer style showdown hosted by yours truly that ended in tears and hugs. I stood there and rolled my eyes.
The day of the wedding arrived and my special role in this fiasco was to get the groom to his special day and once there walk him up the aisle. I told him to put on his best suit, I placed a blind fold over his eyes and told him he was going to attend an important feast. After we got out of the car, I linked my arm with his, he turned so me and said,” You have got to be kidding me.”
At the reception we all got trashed, I flirted with my future husband, and the newly wedded couple had a fight.
They are still married and have three kids.
Share a few bad wedding stories.
Please don’t rec pony party, have a few laughs and move on.
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Say hey and tell me a funny wedding story.
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we went to one of mrs fd’s colleagues’ wedding in Dundee (Scotland). It’s the other end of the landmass from us so we spent the best part of a day driving. The wedding took place in the hotel and we were all piped into the hall where the reception took place. The groom’s father was a great chap who insisted on giving us nips of “The Macallan” from a large hip flask in his jacket pocket. I noticed that the vessel never seemed to empty. “Ye’d better hae a look at this son” he said and we went to the trunk of his car where were, hidden under a tartan blanket, about 10 of such flasks – indistinguishable from one another. “Maigret think’s I’ve only the one too…” he informed me, waving to the groom’s mother through the window.
At the speeches he was involved too. The best man’s speech was fairly short – he was unaccustomed to public speaking. “Aye, that’s right laddie,” said TGF, “say what ye’ve tae say and sit down.” At this point up stood young Lachlan – the happy couple’s nephew, in his wee kilt, sporran and stockings with a real skean dhu. “I want a poo!” he announced to the many assembled guests…..and sat down.
I’m trying to think of any that don’t end with a groomsman stripping on the balcony overlooking a crowd of people on the street…
The last wedding I went to this summer involved traditional Cajun cooking and music. Two-stepping and boudin and an outdoor pavilion, ah, talk about paradise! I’m going to a traditional Sikh wedding in Singapore at the end of the year, provided we can afford the trip.
I have one really bad story, but if I tell it online and it gets back to the people involved, I will be disowned. That’s not a joke. It’s that bad.
and at some point, i was supposed to say , “I do,” and I replied Si!
Everyone laughed, including the notario.