You haven't met me, but if you did, you'd want to invite me to your wedding. Even if you've already had a wedding, or even if you're freshly divorced, I believe that upon spending just one hour with me, you'd be overtaken by the urge to call a clergyman, steal a tray of passed hors d'oeuvres, and kidnap a little blond girl to scatter flowers on the ground before you. Why do I know this? Because I attended no less than six weddings in three months this summer. Mathematically speaking, that is all the weddings.
And I have learned things about weddings, dear friends whose wedding I will one day attend. And know this: every wedding is beautiful. And every wedding has one bad element that need not be there; one awful detail that detracted from the wonder and joy of the occasion, like peeing in your space suit.
I get it. You want to stand out from the crowd. And you want to show off the fact that you love scuba diving, or dressage, or you want to recreate the sunset at Disney World where he proposed. But what does that mean? It means that to get your friends and loved ones drunk on your dime, you decided to make some hapless bartender accessory to the crime of introducing Blue Curacao, Midori, Passion Fruit Schnapps, or, worst of all Kombucha, into an otherwise happy occasion. Your wedding is not the time to experiment with exotic liquor. It is the time to get the greatest amount of liquor into the greatest number of people as quickly as possible. Melon liquor and probiotics don't cut it.
"Dress to Impress," "Festive Attire," and "Business Casual” are not acceptable words to put on a wedding invitation. They are befuddling words that make my wife try on her entire closet and then buy something new anyway. What do you actually want people to wear? Great. Now say that. *And a note about "Business Casual": if it is not self-evidently an awful choice to imply that your wedding is an informal work function, please reconsider the whole thing. Unless you are marrying your boss and you both work at the IRS.
There are many antiquated, misogynist and downright exploitive rituals contained within the wedding tradition, but this is the only one that gives an inebriated groom ample time to go to third base with his beloved in full view of grandparents and small children. Grooms: if you must remove the garter, do so in the time it takes you to read the following sentence: "I enjoy the written work of Gloria Steinem.”
You've decided to refrain from eating dead animals. Neat! Now feed me some rubbery chicken and dry vegetables before I kill and eat your friend who says he's a "conceptual artist," but everyone knows just means "unemployed and probably delicious." A wedding is not the time to sanctimoniously impose your dietary restrictions on friends and family; it's a time for everyone to get drunk and tell you how pretty you look in a white dress.
Map of the venue? Check. Granola bar to take the edge off? Yup. Water bottle so I don't have to open the $5 bottle in the hotel room? Thanks. Condom? NO. It's sweet to send the message to your friends that your wedding is going to be fun and raucous, but materially facilitating our boot knocking and insinuating that we aren't capable of managing our contraception and family planning does not give us faith that either of you are of sound enough mind to make a decision as momentous as marriage. P.S. Where's the lube and postcoital cigarette?
Outdoor weddings can be a great way to be both outdoors and also at a wedding. Tents are mandatory, but when the couple neglects to cover the ground and Mother Nature gets all ironic with rain on your wedding day, every now-enraged woman in attendance will improbably shrink as her heels sink into the moistened soil, and your happy day will smell like wet foot. Spring for a floor covering, unless your in laws are bog people.