Surprise: not much about my engagement and upcoming wedding will be especially traditional. We’re doing it at City Hall. I’m keeping my last name. I’ll wear a dress that I already own. It won’t be white. We’re not having a rehearsal dinner, or monogrammed “Mr.” and “Mrs.” slippers, or 300 goddamned mason jars covered in doilies.
One wedding tradition that is really important to my fiancé, though, is his bachelor party. “It’s an excuse for a party!” he keeps saying. Kale loves an excuse for party like I love a new baby panda video on YouTube.
Alas, despite offers of a coed bachelor/bachelorette party and all the ideas in the world from my girl friends (movie night! spa day! drinking and dancing!), my enthusiasm meter for my own bachelorette extravaganza ranges from meh to meh. Keep reading »
Congratulations, you’re engaged! You’ve decided to combine sock drawers and let someone use the bathroom after you poop for the rest of your life!
Now, I hope your arms aren’t too full because you’re going to spend the next few weeks holding your tongue. Brides- and grooms-to-be, “Congratulations!” or “I’m so happy for you!” is just too hard to say. I am truly sorry. Brace yourselves from some of these doozies instead. Keep reading »
A woman goes through life with a number of labels that she doesn’t have any control over, either by birth or by society’s imposition. But one label she should get to choose is whether she wants to be someone’s “wife” or not. This should be a right for all of us.
A recent piece on Salon.com by soon-to-be-married author Tracy Clark-Flory about the word “wife” really pissed me off. Clark-Flory wrote about going over the language of her wedding ceremony script with her fiancé and getting to the part that says “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Husband? Wife? I could barely conceal my gagging sounds. He said something to the effect of, “Ew, gross.”
It makes me feel like Betty Draper, like I should be fetching his slippers and a scotch on the rocks — and remembering to get the roast bird out of the oven. (In reality, I’ve only just recently expanded my cooking repertoire beyond Kraft mac ‘n’ cheese and things you put in the microwave. He, however, will roast a chicken and make a rustic tart from scratch — all in one night.) I am a daughter, partner and friend — but a wife? I can’t help but imagine saying “I’m his wife” with heavy air quotes, a roll of the eyes or exaggerated feminine cheer.
Clark-Flory then expresses concern that the Middle English/Old English terms for “wife” and “husband” translate, roughly, to “vagina” and “householder.” It’s not that I don’t understand Clark-Flory’s discomfort with both words or their histories (although dredging up the Old English definition? really?). But I’m uneasy with how glib she was about that choice when so many people are scrambling to have the same one. Keep reading »
That awkward moment when you stand up as the bride starts walking down the aisle, expecting a weepy wedding processional, and instead she bumps and grinds her way through “Crazy Bitch,” a Buckcherry song that was on the “National Lampoon’s Van Wilder” movie soundtrack. Keep reading »
For the most part, I’m super excited when one of my friends gets engaged. Good for them, finding the person of their dreams and shit. But what if your friend gets engaged to someone terrible? How are you supposed to respond to that? Because telling her how you really feel — “Do you really want to make the biggest mistake of your life?!” — is out of the question, and staring at her outstretched, blinged-out hand in horror would be, you know, rude, comedienne Sasheer Zamata has some suggestions for how to respond, without lying, when your pal tells you she’s marrying some douchebag. Step 7, “Gestures and Sounds,” will probably be my go-to. [The Hairpin]
Six bridesmaids seems like a lot. Eight? Ten? Twelve? Now you’re really pushing it. But no bride in the history of pushing it has pushed it quite like Katie Dalby, 26, of the UK, who married with 80 bridesmaids by her side. Eighty. Eight-zero. Keep reading »