It’s about to be full-blown Wedding Season and unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that I’ve been pretty much bending over backwards trying to get fit for it. I’ve been frantically tailoring all my clothes, skipping dinner on weekends, abstaining from babes to maintain my edge, and working on my tan to appear thinner. Yeah, you could say my life has been absolute hell lately.
The fact of the matter is, Wedding Season is fucking exhausting. When you start to combine all the hullabaloo surrounding the wedding itself coupled with the travel time and life-shattering hangover, you really have to start asking yourself if being this popular and having this many friends is worth it (just kidding, of course it is).
When you’re attending the wedding, your experience is going to vary hugely based on how you plan on attending. Are you the casual invite, someone’s side-piece plus-one, the pastor, maybe even a wedding crasher? Or, the ultimate “holy shit” attendee — you’re in the wedding.
Being in a wedding can be a gift or a curse. While you get to reap all the benefits of getting asked, there’s also a hell of a lot of responsibility that comes with it. And the only way to decipher the potential enjoyment of all this is by giving it the overrated/underrated treatment.
Fuck. I’m not made of money. A new suit? The bachelor party? Travel expenses? Wedding gifts? You think money grows on trees, bro? Plus, I can’t show up to this thing alone because everyone will whisper about whether I’m un-marry-able or batting for the other team, so allow me to go take out a personal loan for this shit that’s going to set me back a solid four years in becoming financially secure.
The rehearsal. The rehearsal dinner. The pre-ceremony Pinterest-inspired pictures. The ceremony. The post-ceremony photo shoot. The reception. The hangover. I know I’m a social butterfly and everything, but I can only talk about my new job and use the same quips so many times before someone catches on.
Wait, I’m the best man? You expect me to hold on to the rings? I can’t even be held accountable for my wallet and cell phone on a casual Saturday night and you think I can possibly be responsible enough to hold onto the only material items that are supposed to bind you and your wife for the rest of your lawfully wedded lives? Think again, man. You’ve got another thing coming. This is a bad idea.
Furthermore, I’m going to be forced to act appropriately, and that’s no fun for anyone. Dancing with the bride’s nieces instead of the single crop of babes? Always having the thought, “Is another glass of champagne a bad idea?” because I’m about to talk to like fifty fully-functioning adults who are going to want to know every detail of my life? Not being able to channel Dan Aykroyd in The Great Outdoors when Wilson Pickett’s “Land of 1000 Dances” comes on because chewing the leg of a bridesmaid as if it’s a chicken wing has been socially deemed as “inappropriate”? This sucks. Take me out, coach.
Just let me fly under the radar and wake up next to the groom’s second-cousin-twice-removed who sat in the back row of the ceremony. I’m more of a role player anyway. My star wasn’t meant to shine. It was meant to fizzle out in its infancy and settle for the rest of its life.
Everyone knows best pick-up lines are either being the best man in a wedding or wearing a tight pair of Dockers. I mean, I get to be the center of attention without having the commitment of getting fucking married. What’s their not to love?
Yeah, people are saying, “You don’t want to deal with the rehearsal and walking down the aisle, right?” Wrong. Walking down the aisle with a little biscuit on my arm while I toss out wink-bombs to the unsuspecting cuties in the congregation? Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure I can handle that. And that Maid Of Honor that I’ve yet to be introduced to because the bride met her in college? Would. I’ll be talking at her on the trolley post-ceremony because everyone knows you can’t hit a home run without swinging the bat. And if I bring an unsuspecting plus-one? Then she not only gets to see me in my element, but she gets to see me on a pedestal because everyone’s all like, “We should talk to the guy in the wedding that has the luxurious hair and a smile like the sunrise.”
“But it’s so expensive to be in the wedding,” they say. First off, you can’t put a price on memories, asshole. Secondly, expensive? I’m getting a power suit at group discount that I can wear until I’m cursed with a dad body. I get to go to a destination bachelor party with all of my best friends that results in (redacted). And then I’m going to make all that money back on the open bar at the reception when I’m ordering rounds of shots for Tube Socks, Douchebag Pete, my mom, and all my other best friends.
And wait, I get to make a Best Man speech?! Game over. Oh, I am going to kill this room. They’ll first be in stitches, then in tears, then gut laughing at the jokes I’ve been plotting since the second I heard about this engagement. Proper preparation prevents poor performance, so I’ve actually had this speech written since I introduced these two lovebirds in high school.
I’m going to watch Wedding Crashers like fifty times in preparation for this so I don’t miss any of the nuances that go along with straight murdering a wedding. “Being in a wedding is overrated.” Please, get the fuck out of my face. This shit is awesome.