(See? It may have taken me forever, but I finally wrote this, as I promised about a month and a half ago. I really do tend to produce more reliably under deadline pressure.)
The wedding was a small affair in a cute little church outside Seattle. It had been cloudy most of the morning, but the rain held off. The sun even came out in time for the reception, which was held at a country club close to the bride and groom’s home.
It’s funny, even though I brought my camera and Plus One brought his, I only have one picture of the bride. She looked fabulous, but I didn’t want to disrupt things by scooting over to the aisle and snapping pictures. Most of the photos I took were either of Plus One, who looks very dapper in a tie; my mother, who looks ever so stylish in a hat (the only lady at the wedding wearing a hat, in fact; standards have slipped so much these days); or the scrupulously manicured landscape of the country club.
The reception was held at lunchtime and began with my hearing those two unfortunate words a Ricker never likes to hear: cash bar. (I suppose that my brother’s wedding reception spoiled me for all other receptions since. Don’t let this make you think I’m a total lush, though; I’m just frugal. Yes, that’s it.) Lunch was followed by coffee and cake—or rather, it would have been followed by cake if the waiter had not overlooked the fact that I was sitting at the table between Plus One and Mom. Plus One eventually rectified this situation (he’s good about things like that), but not before the bride and groom went up to the dance floor to do the bouquet toss and the garter toss.
I’ve never much cared for those two traditions, but I’ve never been actively opposed to them, either. After all, a wedding is about two people declaring publicly their commitment to each other, and the bouquet and garter toss are a little too herd-mentality for me: “Hey, we’re married now, so let’s have this ritual to make all you single people feel foolish for not pairing off and hitching up already! OK? Great! Who’s next?”
Also, when the groom is taking off the bride’s garter, the DJ will almost always play “Oh Yeah” by Yello, which makes me wonder if the whole routine can get any more degrading.
The answer, of course, is yes.
When it was time to toss the bouquet, the DJ announced that all the single women in attendance were to come to the dancefloor. After a handful of women went up, the DJ said, “Come on, the bride tells me there are more single women out there,” and added the proviso that even if you were dating someone, you should go to the dancefloor. At this point the bride gave the DJ a list of names of all the single women in attendance, which he proceeded to read out. This, I thought, was going a little far. If you don’t want to show off to the rest of the wedding party your terrible hand-eye coordination, or if you’re just not that fast on your feet anymore, it’s your call, right?
Apparently not.
When it came time for the garter toss, the DJ went through the same spiel. Plus One looked at me and said, “Don’t you dare go up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “They won’t call our names. We’re not single.”
That was the point where I heard the DJ starting to stumble over Plus One’s last name.
“Oh, Hell. No,” I said.
I wondered if the bride had forgotten the simple fact that, while I may be officially single, the main reason for that is that I can’t legally get married. Plus One was offended. I wanted to take the bride aside and say, “Enough with the strong-arm tactics. What on earth were you thinking, girl?”
I would also have told her that her dress was great and that she looked fabulous, because she did. As it was, we stayed in our seats, I finally got my cake, finished my coffee, and then said to Plus One and Mum, “Right, shall we hit the road?”
Since then, I can’t say that I’ve thought about the incident all that much. (I wouldn’t even call it an incident, really, because that lends it more weight than it deserves. Faux pas? Perhaps.) I’ve known the bride since I was 16 years old, so I’m inclined to cut her some slack. But more than that, my own views on marriage aren’t all that well-defined. I’ve never considered it an option that was open to me, though I admit the financial advantages it would offer us are attractive. Once, when I asked my mother about it, she said: “Well, I think everyone should have the opportunity to make themselves miserable.”
Her statement should at least make it plain where my personality comes from. I try not to be that jaded, though it’s not easy. Still, it would be nice not to have the inequity thrown in my face, even inadvertantly, by one of my friends.
Besides, what the hell does anyone need with a garter in this day and age?
4 Comments
October 27, 2007 at 11:17 am
But you guys can get married: in Massachusetts (if you lived there), Canada, a few European countries, and South Africa. In addition, you could hold a ceremony anytime you want right there in St. Louis, and you would be just as married from a spiritual/romantic/commitment point of view as your friends in Seattle. You two haven’t chosen to stand together in front of your loved ones and declare your love and lifetime commitment to one another yet, so in most people’s minds, you’re unmarried. Looked at that way, it’s perfectly understandable, and not at all rude, for your friend to have included you on the unmarried list, the reading out of which was pretty inappropriate anyway, no matter the sexual orientation of those named.
The point of the traditional marriage ritual, including the ridiculous bouquet/garter stuff, isn’t the legal benefits associated with civil marriage, the importance of which from both the practical and political points of view you know I’m not downplaying. People don’t usually include clauses in their vows pertaining to sharing medical insurance, visiting each other in the hospital (though I guess that’s implicit in “in sickness and in health”), community property, pensions, and wills. These things are desperately important, as is the acceptance of committed same-sex relationships (and homosexuality in general) which their extension to us in every state would mean.
But that’s not what the ritual is about. Judging by your descriptions of the way you two live, one could argue that you two already are married in the way described in the first paragraph of what I realize is too long a comment. I think that’s the way that matters most, or many more lesbians and gay men would contract marriages of convenience than actually do. From that standpoint, it was silly of your friend to include your names on the unmarried list, because she knows how committed you two are to one another.
If you’re discomfort at this episode was purely political, another option would have been for you and Plus One to go up during Garter Time holding hands, and possibly start making out as the garter was flung, ignoring it and everyone else. That would’ve proven the point more succinctly than anything.
October 29, 2007 at 1:57 pm
I hate the garter/bouquet thing, and would do so even if I were straight and didn’t have to attach any political significance to it. When the DJ starts calling for single people, I always somehow have to go to the bathroom. Or am needed at the bar. Or have to take a telephone call outside. Anything to avoid that stupid ritual.
At this point the bride gave the DJ a list of names of all the single women in attendance, which he proceeded to read out.
You know, I’ve seen my share of wedding receptions, either as a guest or as a waiter. They’re more unique than snowflakes, and I’m loath to tell anyone how they should celebrate their special day. All that said…..are you fucking kidding me?
October 29, 2007 at 5:17 pm
Handing the singles list to the DJ gives any guest in attendance the permission to rub poison ivy on the sheets of the couple’s marital bed.
Inexcusable.
While I would never go to this length–yow. Remind me never to tick you off.
October 31, 2007 at 9:19 am
Offhand, I can think of several amusing uses for a garter.