Diary of a Mad Bride
Page 7
Except boats and riverfront restaurants. Stephen has an aunt who’s afraid of water.
september 26th
This morning we saw a photographer’s loft down in Chinatown. Very hip, open, and all white. The right size for a group of eighty-five and could easily be transformed into a romantic setting with some clever decorations. The photographer even offered to throw in a couple of backdrops for free. But the neighborhood was too seedy. It’s one thing to step over restaurant trash on your way to a celebrity photo shoot, but for a wedding reception?
I composed my list of holiday-oriented story ideas on the bus ride to work.
Kate’s gotten in touch with twenty-two of the reception sites I asked her to call. Half were already booked for our date. She scheduled appointments for the remaining eleven. Unfortunately, Stephen’s so busy with his project at work that it looks like I’ll be seeing most of them myself. Hopefully Kate will be able to contact the remaining thirteen places.
As for the ceremony, Stephen and I have chosen a church on the Upper East Side—First American Presbyterian. Since Stephen’s family is Presbyterian and my family is only vaguely Protestant, it makes the most sense. It’s beautiful and classy and available for our date. We have an appointment to meet the minister next Saturday.
While Stephen thinks his mother will be disappointed that we’re not being married by his family minister, Reverend MacKenzie, in the church that he attended as a child, he’s fairly certain that she’ll accept our decision to marry in the city. After all, First American is on the Upper East Side.
Besides, Stephen says Reverend MacKenzie gives him the creeps.
As for my parents, I’m certain they won’t care. They didn’t bat an eye when Nicole and Chet were married by Chet’s renegade Baptist minister cousin who arrived five minutes before the ceremony after driving sixteen hours from Louisiana without stopping to shower. Trust me. The guy didn’t shower.
I just hope my parents understand why I want to get married in the city instead of their backyard. Unlike Nicole, who’s permanently ensconced herself in our hometown, I am no fan. Just going back to see my parents gives me the shakes. It’s quiet, it’s manicured, it’s boring. It’s like the whole place is on life support. Getting married there would be tantamount to running a lawn mower over my head.
Not to mention the fact that if we get married in the city, our folks will be too far away to attempt a coup. I’ve seen Betsy’s Wedding a thousand times on cable and I’m determined that this wedding be our personal expression, not some parental fantasy come true.
september 29th
My mother and Gram came down to the city to do some shopping today. Before heading home they stopped by my office. While my mother was in the ladies’ room I proudly held out my hand to show Gram my engagement ring. Gram took one look at my ring and clapped her hands in delight. “Would you look at that! It’s lovely!”
“Stephen gave it to me. It’s my engagement ring.”
Gram’s delight turned to concern. She looked me straight in the eye as if she were about to tell me I had male-pattern baldness, and said, “But that’s an emerald. Engagement rings are supposed to be diamond.”
“Typically yes, but there’s no reason to be trapped by the shackles of tradition.”
Gram shook her head. “Sure there is. Diamonds are tough as nails. They symbolize strength and fidelity. Emeralds are weak and unreliable. Liz Taylor wears them all the time.”
Weak and unreliable? Elizabeth Taylor? Was she kidding?
“Come on, Gram. You don’t really believe that. Besides, this ring belonged to Stephen’s great-grandmother.”
Gram clutched her heart. “You mean he didn’t even buy it?”
“No. It’s a family heirloom.”
“Heirloom? That means free. He should’ve spent some money on my beautiful granddaughter.”
Forget that this ring and I have bonded. And that it makes me smile every day. All of that meant nothing. Because in under thirty seconds Gram had somehow managed to turn my stunning emerald ring into a stinging source of shame. Like the magician pulling a rabbit from a hat—you don’t know how it happens, but it does.
Just then my mother returned from the bathroom. I stuffed my hand into my pocket and quickly asked about their train schedule. I’d show her my ring some other time. Maybe in a year or ten. But right now I’d had all the family support I could bear.
Minutes later I was putting them on the elevator as Barry was stepping out. “What do we have here? Don’t tell me. Three generations of Thomas women. No doubt in town to make wedding preparations. How exciting! You know, Amy, you never did tell me how your Dream Boy proposed.”
But before I could dodge the question Gram responded, “On the candy line at the multiplex on Broadway. The one next to the adult bookstore.” I’m not sure whether I screamed or just felt like it.
Barry smiled. “A ‘concession’ proposal. That’s original…and telling.” Then he and his shit-eating grin sashayed away, his howls of laughter ringing throughout the halls.
I turned to Gram in disbelief. But she was clueless. “What’s so funny? I’m certain that’s what Stephen told me.” Looking at her sweet, innocent face I remember thinking, If she weren’t such a kind old lady I would definitely kick her teeth in.
october 1st
I saw five reception venues today as my lunch hour turned into a lunch afternoon. Two hotels—too expensive. One garden restaurant—affordable if I want to get married on a Tuesday night. A corporate event space in the East-Asian Cultural Building. Too impersonal. Too cold. Too scary. Do I really want a bust of Chairman Mao spotlit during my wedding reception? And a SoHo art gallery. Great except I’d have to buy a hefty insurance policy for the artwork, which would remain on the walls during my event. Scheduled for June 2nd—“High Heels and Hymens: Fetishistic Nude Photography.”
october 3rd
Stephen’s just informed me that his friends Mitch and Larry are going to be his best man and groomsman.
Mitch and Larry, who might as well be called Beavis and Butthead, are like Mandy—only emotionally stunted. Unable to maintain their appearance let alone jobs or relationships, they have little to do with who Stephen is now. They’re more a part of his past than his future (God willing). They’re his old fraternity brothers who have yet to realize that college is over, the frat house is gone, and those gray hairs in their goatee mean that forty-ounce beers are no longer for personal consumption.
I was really hoping that Stephen would choose one of his more interesting, literate friends. But no. He got all sentimental and clung to the gruesome twosome.
Marriage really is a package deal.
october 4th
We met with Father Anderson today. He’s the only minister I’ve ever seen who wears a Rolex and carries a cell phone. His broker called three times during our meeting. Apparently there was a rally on Seagram’s. Anyway, First American Presbyterian is ours on June 2nd. I just hope Father Anderson puts his phone on vibrate.
Official THINGS TO DO List
1. Choose wedding date
2. Tell boss wedding date
3. Vacation time for honeymoon
4. Decide on honeymoon
5. Get minister
6. Choose reception venue
7. Make guest list
8. Choose maid of honor
9. Choose best man
10. Register for gifts
11. Arrange for engagement party
12. Buy engagement ring
13. Buy wedding rings
14. Buy wedding dress
15. Choose maid of honor dress
16. Order wedding cake
17. Hire caterer
18. Hire band for reception
19. Order flowers for ceremony
20. Buy shoes
21. Plan rehearsal dinner
22. Invites to rehearsal dinner
23. Hire musicians for ceremony
24. Decide on dress code
; 25. Get marriage license
26. Hire videographer
27. Hire photographer
28. Order table flowers
29. Order bouquets
30. Order boutonnieres for men
31. Order nosegays for women
32. Order invitations
33. Decide on wine selection
34. Postage for invitations
35. Choose hairstyle and makeup
36. Buy gifts for attendants
37. Buy thank-you notes
38. Announce wedding in newspaper
39. Buy headpiece
40. Buy traveler’s checks for honeymoon
41. Apply for visas
42. Get shots and vaccinations
43. Order tent if necessary
44. Order chairs/tables if necessary
45. Make budget
46. Divide expenses
47. Make table-seating charts
48. Choose bridesmaid dress
49. Decide on menu
50. Decide on hors d’oeuvres
51. Decide on dinner-service style
52. Decide on staff-guest ratio
53. Decide seated or buffet
54. Reserve vegetarian meals
55. Reserve band/photographer/videographer meals
56. Make photo list
57. Choose hotel for wedding night
58. Hire limo for church-reception transport
59. Buy guest book for reception
60. Find hotel for out-of-towners
61. Decide on liquor selection
62. Hire bartenders
63. Verify wheelchair accessibility
64. Choose processional music
65. Choose recessional music
66. Choose cocktail music
67. Choose reception music
68. Choose ceremony readings
69. Prepare birdseed instead of rice
70. Schedule manicure/pedicure/wax
october 5th
Over a billion men on this planet and I found the one who puts the toilet seat down. It’s like winning the lottery!
I am so in love.
october 6th
I’ve seen seven more reception venues. None of them works. Of the remaining twenty-one that Kate has called, fifteen are booked for our date, and I’m scheduled to see the last six next week. What a disaster.
I’m going upstate this weekend to spend some time with my parents and to determine how much money they’re giving us for the wedding. Even before the food, liquor, and entertainment costs, these venues are more expensive than I ever imagined. We’ll definitely have to cut corners here and there. But I can’t worry too much. After all, does it really matter if we serve California wine instead of French?
october 7th
Today is my thirtieth birthday. Everyone said I’d be disappointed, devastated, depressed…but I’m thrilled. I have friends, family, and Stephen. Not to mention (somewhat) meaningful employment. What more could I ask for?
october 9th
Well, I’ve had a RUDE awakening.
My parents are only giving us $5,000 for the wedding. That will barely pay for the food!
DAD
We’re heading into retirement soon. If you’d done this a few years back, like your sister did, it would have been easier for us.
ME
Well, forgive me for not jumping on the first man I met just to ensure you’d pay for my wedding.
DAD
Oh, sweetheart, we’re glad you didn’t jump into marriage. Frankly, we didn’t think you were the marrying kind.19 It’s just that it’s a little late.
ME
Late? I’m only thirty!
MOM
I had two children by the time I was thirty.
ME
And look how we turned out!
MOM
You’re getting hysterical.
ME
You bet I’m hysterical. I thought you’d be more supportive of my marriage.
DAD
We’re very supportive of your marriage. Stephen’s a nice, solid man. But our accountant’s advising us to be fiscally conservative. You know, Nicole was quite pleased when she got $5,000 for her wedding.
ME
First off, that was five years ago. If you calculate the rate of inflation, $5,000 back then is like $20,000 today.
DAD
I guess that’s New Math.
ME
Second, Chet’s family laid out twice as much as that.
DAD
Then Stephen should ask his family for the rest.
They were right. The only option is to ask the Stewarts to shoulder the brunt of the cost. I hope they don’t mind. It could get as high as $15,000. But I suppose that’s just a drop in the bucket for them. After all, they’ve got a four-car garage.
* * *
19 Again with the Marrying Kind?! Why do people keep saying that?
october 10th
Stephen has just informed me that his family’s willing to match my parents’ $5,000, but that’s it. Not a penny more. After I regained consciousness I reminded him that this isn’t the Stone Age. The days of dowries, trousseaus, and prized goats being offered by the bride’s family are long gone. The groom’s family is more than welcome to shoulder the financial burden of a wedding. Even BB says so. And Prudence agrees. I can see it in her eyes. Besides, the Stewarts are significantly more affluent than my family, so it just makes sense.
STEPHEN
I understand that it makes sense to you. But my family is pretty traditional.
ME
Your mother keeps a miniature chow in her handbag and your father’s dating your lab partner from tenth grade.
STEPHEN
True. But we still go caroling at Christmas.
Yeah? Well, this year we may have to do it for profit, because there’s no way $10,000 is paying for an elegant New York City wedding.
Stephen insists that we shouldn’t worry. “We’ll work it out.” Sure, that’s a terrific answer for a spontaneous person. But control freaks like me who can’t sleep at night without triple-checking their Things To Do list need a real PLAN. Besides, he’s so distracted by his damn computer program that “We’ll work it out” is pass-the-buck language for “You deal with it, Amy.”
october 10th—4 A.M.
I can’t sleep. I keep reviewing the numbers in my head, and there’s no way to have an elegant wedding for $10,000. After all, this is America. Not Taiwan.
And for the record, if I could, I’d be more than willing to pay for this wedding myself. Except I work in magazines. It’s a notoriously cheap industry. I do it for love, not money. Especially at Round-Up. So I can’t pay for it out of my own pocket. I can barely afford clothes that have pockets. And despite Mandy’s raving about how lucrative the software industry is, Stephen’s at a start-up company, which is having trouble starting. He makes less than I do.
I’ll just have to beg my parents for more money.
But what if they’re being honest about their retirement fund? What if their accountant is right and they need to save now so they won’t be in the street when it’s time for premasticated foods and saltwater enemas? How selfish of me to bug them for more money. The very people who clothed and housed me and sent me to Girl Scout camp when I was twelve. Where do I get off deciding how they should spend their money?
On the other hand, it’s not like they’re impoverished. They both work, they both have pensions, and they own their house. They’re debt-free: Nicole and I are repaying our college loans. And it’s not like they’ll starve—my dad’s middle-management at a supermarket chain. They’re even planning a trip to Europe next year for my mom’s fifty-fifth birthday. So come on, people, ease up those purse strings!
And why is Stephen’s family suddenly so tightfisted? thought they were delighted about this marriage. Why else would they give me the coveted emerald ring?
october 13th
Barry interrupted our review of the Decembe
r proofs to ask how many kids Stephen and I are going to have. Why’s a guy I’d love to see sail the Titanic thinking about me procreating? He shouldn’t even look at my briefcase, let alone envision me splayed out on a hospital bed with another life spewing from my loins.
ME
It’s not something we’re thinking about yet. How long is your eggnog piece going to be?
BARRY
A double-page spread. I’ve always felt that six children made a good-sized family. Very Brady Bunch.
ME
My writer covering the city’s various religious celebrations says the piece is running over. He’s going to need another quarter page. And having six children has been out of fashion since medical science perfected that smallpox vaccine. Besides, if Carol Brady actually birthed all six of those kids she wouldn’t have had time to do the show.
BARRY
Why not? Shirley Partridge had five kids and a band. And with those hips you could have an entire litter if you wanted.
What the hell’s wrong with my hips?!
But before I could respond he was out the door and complimenting Mr. Spaulding on his choice of tie.
october 14th
I saw two more reception venues today.
The first was a Veterans Administration party room. And they say war is hell. You should’ve seen this room. Throw a few certified morons in there and it could pass for the D.M.V. No wonder vets are so depressed.
The second was the ballroom at the Marrion hotel. It’s where Stephen’s ex-girlfriend Diane “I’m a Big Pain in the Ass” Martin got married. Sure that makes it a hand-me-down venue, but I figured with $10,000 I should just be happy it’s not the Motel 6.
But even the Marrion wanted $4,000 just to rent the room. What are they, crazy? They’re barely above the Days Inn on the hotel food chain, and they want more than a third of my entire wedding budget? Forget it. That would leave a buck-fifty for decorating, and even I can’t be creative on a buck-fifty.