Attending a family wedding is a very different experience than attending a friend’s wedding. And friends’ weddings vary wildly depending on how long you have known that friend… or, more accurately, how long that friend’s parents have known you.
A family wedding comes with aunts and uncles, all of whom care deeply about you. They have known you since you were born so, naturally, they feel more than comfortable asking that dreaded question, “So when are you getting married?” They mean well. Or, more likely, they are trying to plan their next big party and hoping I will provide it… soon. I have been asked this question so many times that I have developed standard answers for it. The most recent family wedding I went to I was asked five times, which I consider a big improvement over the twenty-five times I was asked at the first family wedding I attended as an adult.
From there the question gets asked less and less until you reach college friends whose parents you may have met twice. They don’t care when you’re getting married, they really just want to know who this person eating all of their food is.
“I’m Katie… I went to Whitworth with Amy.”
Or, better still, friends whose parents you’re meeting for the first time.
“I’m Katie… I work with Dan at camp.”
Those people really don’t care when you’re getting married. In their minds they are already talking to someone more important.
Those are the two extreme ends of the spectrum; between them you have any number of options. There are Elementary and Middle School friends whose parents think they raised you and therefore have the right to ask you any question they want regarding your pending marital status. And there are High School friends whose parents are 98% certain that you are the reason their daughter’s grades suddenly plummeted sophomore year. It’s hard to accurately predict how many times you will be asked at those weddings, but it will be less than at a family wedding and more than at a stranger’s wedding. All I can say with real certainty is the less time I have known a friend’s family the more confident I feel that I will enjoy their wedding without having to explain why a “great girl” like me is still single.
I remember my friend Sarah’s wedding. I have been friends with Sarah since I was 16. The night before the wedding I sat at a park picnic table, the BBQ rehearsal dinner, turning a velvety ring box over in my hands, the contents of which cost more than my car and I was not sure why I was placed in charge of it. I was the maid of honor and I took my responsibilities very seriously, my chief responsibility being DON’T LOSE THE RING. Sarah’s mom walked over with a plate of food in her hands and a 1000 yard stare, sitting across the table from me. I shoved the box into my purse.
“Hey Mrs. Atchison. I see you finally got some food.” It seems one of the burdens of mother of the bride to be is being the last to eat. My own plate had been emptied and cleared away ages before. “Is there anything I can help with for tomorrow?”
“I think everything is set. How’s school going these days? You’re up in Washington, right?”
“Whitworth, in Spokane. It’s going well. I’m very excited about the classes I’m taking next semester.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she nodded, half dazed. “Is there anyone special?” You would think I would have seen that coming. Sarah had been invested in the idea of finding me love since the second I walked through the doors of our high school. Why wouldn’t her mother have similar interests? Oh no, I had been prepared to talk all about the writing and literature classes I was registered for. “Are you going to be the next wedding we’ll be attending?”
My internal monologue hit the brakes, grinding the transmission as I tried to switch gears. “Oh… Oh God! Probably not.” The blood drained from my face turning my deep tan to a sickly blue. I had yet to even kiss a boy, and the boy I had most recently been considering kissing had changed his Facebook status to “in a relationship” earlier that week. Those are not the kind of answers people want to hear. They want to hear things that are exciting and shiny. “I have to finish college and publish before I can even think about getting married.”
“Publishing could take a long time.”
Yeah, so don’t go picking out a wedding present for me just yet.
I did not really have a problem with marriage as an institution. It was somewhere on my list of things to do in my life. I just saw no reason for me to be considering it at 21. There were other things left to do that getting married and starting a family would definitely get in the way of. Besides, people who get married are not to be trusted.
The idea of getting married so young stuck badly in my brain. Up until recently, every adult in my life had told me and my friends that we were too young to worry about getting serious with a guy; in fact we should be avoiding the male species all together. Then, almost overnight, the same adults started acting as if finding husbands was the most important thing we could be doing. The sudden shift left my neck aching. It seemed so odd. I felt far too young and unsure of who I was to be choosing who I would spend the rest of my life with, but this was the second wedding I had been in that summer. Both were girls I graduated from high school with. Both were younger than me.
“Well,” I shrugged, “I guess I’ll just have to wait a while to get married then.” I slunk away, unwilling to continue any conversation regarding my relationship status or lack thereof.
Exactly twenty-four hours later, I found myself sitting to the side of the dance floor, wearing an obnoxious blue bridesmaid dress with my friend Erin, a fellow bridesmaid. The all too familiar chorus of “Single Ladies” blasted over the speakers, making me jump.
“All right single ladies, it’s that time. Please gather at the center of the dance floor.”
“No,” I groaned, A cluster of girls, none older than me, gathered at the center of the dance floor for a richly outdated wedding tradition.
“And where are the bridesmaids? There they are. Come on down ladies!”
I followed Erin into the fray, slouching, feeling uncomfortable pushed to the front of the horde. Sarah stepped onto a small riser holding up a bundle of blue and yellow roses, a mischievous look on her face.
Up until then my only experience with the bouquet toss were movies and America’s Funniest Home Videos. Images of girls tearing each other’s nicest dresses wrestling over a mangled bundle of flowers. And for what? To calm some need in their hearts to be the next girl to get married? No thank you. That was not something I would be participating in.
Sarah gave me her best “target acquired” look. Another situation where it is my own fault for not knowing better. What was I thinking, positioning myself next to Erin at the front of the pack? Sarah’s desire to find me love was one of the pillars our friendship was built on. She had already tried to set me up with two of the groomsmen. It was sweet… really. As is tradition, Sarah turned her back to the group and sent the flowers flying through the air.
I cringed, heart turning to hot lead, watching its trajectory. A ballistic missile aimed at me. I did the only thing I could think to do. I ducked.
The roses sailed just over my head into the arms of a high school senior who jumped up and down, giddy.
‘Phew.’ I skulked off the dance floor. No societal tradition was going to force me to choose the love of my life just yet.
I actually do not know why I have always felt the need to avoid catching wedding bouquets at all costs. I doubt florists weave magic spells into them that draw you to your soulmate like a magnet. Maybe they do. I know very little about what goes on in the backrooms of flower shops. All I know is it was a risk I was not prepared to take.
Avoiding the wedding bouquet became one of my special skills. It is easier at some weddings than others. At a wedding with no family or close friends whose mission is to find you your happily ever after it is easy to slip to the back of the group, or remaining sitting at your table and claim that you missed the announcement. At a family wedding,you have to take a different approach. Your family is invested in the idea of you getting married, they’re not going to risk you missing your chance to catch the magic love summoning flowers.
My cousin Elizabeth’s wedding was very similar to Sarah’s, except that by the age of 27 people are not just wondering when you are getting married but why you are not married yet. Aunts, uncles, even cousins’ eyes narrow when they see you wander into the church alone, no plus one name placard at your table. They wonder if you are alone because you did not want to subject your secret boyfriend to the horrors of a family wedding or because there really was no one to bring.
I was the youngest family occupant of the Daroff table, the only of six first cousins to make an appearance. Aunts and Uncles and a few second cousins surrounded me all very interested in what “little Katie” was up to these days. The topic of most interest was, as always, my dating life.
“So, Katie,” one relative turned to face me, “ when do you think you’ll be getting married?”
“Married? That sounds an awful lot like it would get in the way of my plans to be a spinster cat lady.”
My dad has two younger sisters, so I have two aunts. I love them both very dearly but I am human and prefer the company of one over the other. The following statement is why. That aunt smiled at her cousin.
“Besides,” she told her, “Katie’s way too busy fighting dragons and going on adventures for sort of thing. There’s plenty of time.”
For the first time since my curves filled out and I started to resemble a woman, I actually thought that would be the end of the conversation. It turned toward the question of what sort of adventures I was going on. Could it be possible? Had I transcended the “when are you getting married” conversation?
No. Some streams can only be temporarily diverted.
We finished our meals and listened to speeches from the maid of honor and best man and then the DJ took control of the situation. Every wedding has a few tasks before you can set the guests free to dance and drink and generally be merry; the first dance, the father daughter dance, cake cutting, the garter toss, and, of course, the bouquet.
“Could I have all of the single ladies up front?”
“Katie!” My other aunt must have had more to drink than I thought. She screeched my name with the same urgency of a dive bombing seagull after the last of your fries. “That means you.”
A few heads at nearby tables turned toward the commotion. My ears grew hot. “Actually, I’d rather not.”
“You don’t have a choice!”
With the help of another not-so-sober family member, my aunt managed to remove me from my chair and position me at the front of the group. Girls jockeyed for position to my left and to my right. My throat seized up as I came to the horrifying realization that, once again, I was in the red-zone for the bouquet toss. No place to go. Nowhere to hide. Too late to slip into the back. I held my breath watching a bundle of white roses sail through the air. The world slowed down. Chewing my lip I calculated their trajectory and the best way to avoid the flowers that were certain to slam right into my chest.
You might think it is easy to not catch a bouquet. You would be wrong. It requires a certain level of finesse and grace to make it look like you wanted to catch it but just barely missed as well as a calculated look of disappointment. I did not bother with all of that. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I shoved to the right, knocking a girl out of my way. The roses slamming into the polished dance floor between me and a surprised looking bridesmaid on my left. Petals and broken flower stems littered the floor at our feet. The other young woman forced her “O” shaped mouth shut before stooping over to gather up the broken pieces. At last the bouquet was caught and I was released to return to my seat. Both aunts waited on the edge of the dance floor, neither being single ladies.
“You totally could have had that.”
My other aunt rushed onto the the floor, snatching up a single forgotten rose.
“No,” I shrugged, “the other girl wanted it. I could see it in her eyes.”
“Katie!” My other aunt shoved the mangled flower into my hands. “I have something for you!”
“You shouldn’t have… really.”
Popular wedding lore says that the girl who catches the bouquet is the next in line to get married, though this stems from women tearing the bride’s dress for luck and the bride throwing her bouquet in order to escape. If catching the bouquet is supposed to summon a husband to you, then what do you get when someone shoves the last piece of a mangled bouquet at you? Does the magic still work once the bouquet is broken into pieces?
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