Like birthday parties, I just want to attend weddings, not plan one. I actually love weddings, the organized effort of food, music and write your name and address at the door are effortlessly enjoyable as a guest. However, the produciton that goes into planning is formidable. To this intimidation, I may have to sit out on sitting down with a florist, planner, baker, tailor, pastor or even worse, a make-up artist who struggles with Asian eyes because she can't find the eyelid to apply the shadow or hair stylist gun-equipped with some kind of freeze-n-shine spray. I can't chose four friends who made the cut, aka the party. I can't create a seating chart because, frankly, the four friends I'm allowed to clad in the same gown will all be up alongside me, leaving it altar-heavy, pew-light. I see newlyweds making their rounds at dinner to every table having to recite the same "can't wait for Bora Bora, haven't slept in three days, it went by so fast" mini-speeches. I would want to eat the filet that I only got to taste-test and I wouldn't want to eat my cake a year later. What a gross tradition. I wouldn't know which dad to ask to walk me down the aisle. I'd rather have a red dress from Vera Wang and white dishes from Crate & Barrel.
I have friends who have expressed the same sentiment yet, in the end, they have cake all over their face. Perhaps, some do it out of appreciation to the ones that stuck by them during the ups and downs of love thus, to that end, the desire to declare love and commitment in front of family and friends. Who knows? It's an idea I might succomb to as well...but it might be minus-guestbook, plus-guest towels...on a remote beach with close friends to serve you mai-tai's at the receiving line.