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Wedding culture rots your brain. I'm no expert, but I did have my own chaotic wedding in 2019, and I came out of it feeling strangely lucky that it never had a fighting chance of being a "dream" ceremony. https://www.texasmonthly.com/being-texan/texas-wedding-photographers-have-seen-some/
Having gone through life as a spinster tomboy, I doubted I'd ever get married, and if I did, I assumed I was immune to all that Princess for a Day bs. It was a big surprise then, when I found myself suddenly engaged and incredibly anxious about planning the perfect day.
It happened really fast. My boyfriend's mom got a terrible diagnosis, and we decided that giving her the chance to see her son married and throwing a party to celebrate family and life and good times was one thing we could do in the face of tragedy.
It was a race against time. We had a month and a half to plan the thing, and right away the unstoppable force of logistics ran into the immovable object of The Dream Wedding I wasn't even know I wanted.
First, so many friends and family couldn't make it on such short notice. People we loved and grew up with, people who I couldn't imagine having a wedding without. No time for a bachelorette party, shower, paper invitations.
(I used to work at a letterpress so the invitations hit me hard. I felt the loss of so many things I thought I didn't care about.)
We didn't have much savings. My ring was $25. I got a second credit card and immediately tanked my credit (in part because I'm a moron, in part because even fly-by-night weddings are money pits)
But if there was one thing I knew I wanted, it was location, this beach house in Madison, CT. My parents got married there. As did my cousin. I visited every summer of my life, my sister has it tattooed to her back. It's the most important place to me. I had to get married there
But soon it became clear that Chris' mom couldn't travel. She was in chemo. The wedding had to happen within a few miles of her rehab facility in NJ. But I couldn't let go of the beach, that mirage of the dream wedding.
The ENTIRE reason I was planning a wedding in 40 days as a broke 27-year-old was so Chris' mom could be there. And yet, here I was, researching medical transport services, trying to game out a way to make it work.
It was a wake up call. I thought I was at the lowest possible Bridezilla risk. I thought I was acting selflessly. That's the trick of a wedding. They're presented as a rite of passage into adulthood, when they really encourage your most childish impulses.
For me, the whole event became a test of my maturity, my generosity, my ability to handle a crisis. A chance to prove how adult I was by pulling together a perfect adult performance.
In the end, the only solution was to fully embrace the chaos and absurdity of the day. Flowers ordered online never bloomed? Afterparty at a Marriott indoor pool? Epstein found dead the morning of the ceremony? I'm not sweating it
We ended up finding an urban farm in Clifton to have the ceremony. There were goats and chickens milling about, farmers going about their business. It was great.
I didn't mean for this to become a meditation on how having a slapdash wedding makes me virtuous! And I'm certainly not justifying all those Covid weddings. The pressure is real but no excuse.
(And I will say, having rushed a wedding for a loved one who was dying, it's surreal to see how many people out there are going ahead with weddings that should be delayed, and in doing so literally killing their family members.)
