That Moment When…

…I realized this wedding was turning into one big costume project.

I’m sorry. I’ve got to vent.

A little backstory. My fiance loves making costumes. Halloween is his favorite holiday, but he’ll use any excuse to dress up. He’s very good at it. And he’s very anal.

Early in our relationship, I learned NOT to costume with him. He once stubbornly refused to budge on a detail so infinitesimal which nobody would see or care about, I literally sat for an hour in silence trying to wait him out, and finally made him sew the damn thing himself.

I apologize. I don’t usually use crass language. Please forgive me.

In his defense, he’s not like that about everything. Just costumes…

…and the wedding.

Now, I could throw a huge tantrum, turn on the water works, fight and scream my way, but I’m not like that. I’m not a bitch. I don’t want to get my way that way, and I really don’t want to make something as trivial as a wedding more important than my love and respect for him.

That being said, I am still frustrated. You may remember me saying I never wanted a wedding. Well, this is why.

Apparently, tradition is everything.

My fiance is completely hung up on tradition. He wants the cookie-cutter wedding. He wants to do everything everybody else is doing. And if I have an opinion or want to omit something, he has a freaking cow. He even asked me, “What is it about tradition that you don’t like?”

I told him. It’s not that I don’t like tradition. I do. It’s great – for other people. But remember, I never wanted a wedding, I wanted to elope. But I’m having a wedding. Fine.

Ideally, I would like to make it as comfortable and relaxed as possible. I wouldn’t stand for all the extra trappings that take up so much time (and money) at weddings. There would be a light, fun ceremony, good food, fun music, and time to chill, hang out, dance, and eat some blooming pie.

Oh, another thing.


But he’s making me eat cake.

I could go on and on, folks, but at some point I need to look in the mirror and ask the hard question:

“Should I just swallow the cake or spit it out?”

This has been.

Fanny T. Crispin (aka Distressed Bride-to-be)

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