The Wedding Planner

You know what, I am so not planning this wedding. The Boy is. And I think thats fantastic.

Stereotypically it is the female who gathers the troops made up of girlfriends, siblings and parents to research and deliberate. She may spend hours contemplating the merits and suitability of each product or vendor. Once a short list or even a preference has been decided upon she might then check that this is ok with her beau before going ahead but that how things get done. Or how things might be done if you’re not us. In our case, its The Boy who has spent hours on the internet and the phone researching in order to find the perfect church, reception venue and wedding attire for our day. Once he finds what he thinks is right, he lets me know what it is and I turn up with the credit card. He doesn’t actually tell me we’re going to do something. He does ask for my opinion and my agreement but by the time he brings anything to my attention, its pretty much a foregone conclusion that whatever it is I’m faced with is definitely one of the top contenders or indeed what is the final choice for the day.

Now I know that there are a lot more grooms out there who are choosing to get actively involved in the planning for their weddings. At the last couple of Bridal Fairs I attended, there was a significant number of fiancées who were weighing in on the discussions and decisions with the various vendors present. Men definitely weren’t in the majority of the attendees but those that were there were not dragging their heels a couple of paces behind their other half studiously avoiding eye contact with any of the vendors. There were a couple who looked like a deer caught in headlights when they were addressed about say the aesthetic appeal of hot pink on a wedding invitation sure. That is at least before the stark panic set in and you could see their mind churning as all of their senses were no doubt on alert just in case the vendor in question pounced on them with the express purpose of smothering them in six layers of tulle and hog tying them with a couple of metres of velvet ribbon. Cause the vendors are bound to want to do that aren’t they? But for the rest of the men, they seemed to actually be interested. Or very afraid of their fiancé. It is my opinion however that The Boy does not fit into this category.

I do find it useful that The Boy seems to have a healthy fear of me. He was absolutely packing it when he had an accident in our car and had to tell me he’d run into someone. Regarding our wedding however, he has actually been instrumental in the planning process to date as opposed to merely a participant. And not only has he been responsible for the decisions regarding the ceremony and the reception, decisions that one might regard as being of a more neutral nature, he has so far managed to pick out the wedding gown, the designer for my jacket and the maid of honour dress as I have mentioned before. Decisions that are very much not normally part of the male domain in a wedding. That might of course have something to do with the tradition that dictates that it is bad luck for the groom to see his affianced in her wedding gown before the wedding but still...I have always picked and chosen the traditions that I thought were worthwhile adhering to and that one didn’t make the list. And I’m quite thankful it wasn’t on his list either.

As much as I have spent time browsing the internet and looking through bridal magazines for inspiration and options, I haven’t been doing the lion’s share. And since what I have been doing has managed to frustrate me no end, I am grateful that The Boy has shouldered most of that burden as he has been doing a lot of the hard work. I managed to stumble over some bridal blogs today that were full of women espousing their delight and joy in attending the fittings for their gown and sending out the invitations. Women who appeared to locate the perfect anything with little or no effort at all and who were so organised and prepared, they were practically twiddling their thumbs months before the wedding. There was no angst, no frustration, (no irreverent humour – it was all rather boring really) and no hint that this whole process isn’t as easy as it looks. Maybe they weren’t real women though. Maybe its all a plot fuelled by some Matrimonial Matriarchs who have an insidious desire to have you give up when faced with your own ineptitude and come crawling for their advice and assistance. Or maybe some women just know what they want and money isn’t an option. Either way, that story isn’t part of my wedding journey. I don’t need a wedding planner or a gaggle of girls to traipse around after me, all putting in their two cents worth. I have The Boy.