Manure and wife
My fiancée insists on having our wedding at “THE most magical place to get married,” this beautiful lake resort. Her family’s well-off, but having it there creates a financial hardship for my relatives and our friends, who are working crappy jobs in a terrible economy. Our guests mostly live in our hometown, and the lake is a four-hour drive each way, and there are no affordable places to stay. I’ve suggested that we have the wedding in this beautiful space on my uncle’s farm, just outside of town, but my fiancée, who’s typically unselfish, remains inflexible. She wants it to be “truly special” and says people who care about us will find a way to come.
Brides-to-be can easily lose touch with reality. They start by pricing the VFW hall, and before long it’s “Oh, is the International Space Station booked? Okay then, we’ll rent the Grand Canyon for a white-water rafting wedding. Not to worry, Grandma — you can use your oxygen tank as a flotation device!”
Destination weddings are great if you can send the private jet to pick up Grandpa Lou, Great-Auntie Myrtle, and all your Ph.D.-equipped barista friends and then put them up in a vast estate you rented for the wedding-ganza weekend. But, in a tough economy, maybe your special day doesn’t have to be other people’s special day to go bankrupt: “Please join us after the ceremony for dinner and dancing, followed by credit counseling.”
Because boys don’t grow up having misty daydreams about someday being a groom, it can be hard for a man to understand how an otherwise sweet and reasonable woman can go all weddingzilla: “My dress must have a 50-foot train, trimmed with the skins of puppies!” The question is, is this just a case of bride fever — temporary blindness to all forms of sense and reason related to wedding planning — or is it that her true colors are graduating shades of bossy selfishness (one part Kim Kardashian and two parts Kim Jong Il)?
When two “become as one,” decisions need to be a product of “we” and not “she” (as in, she decides and then tugs the leash for you to come along). A stumbling block to compromise is self-justification — the ego-protecting tendency to stubbornly defend ourselves, insisting we’re right and shoving away any information that suggests otherwise. (To err is human — as is doing everything in our power to avoid admitting we’ve erred.)
Preventing this takes putting marriage before ego — and making a pact to resolve conflicts by really listening to each other, putting yourselves in each other’s shoes, and working out solutions that work for you as a couple. Ask her to explain why this location is so special to her. Let her know that you truly appreciate her efforts, but that what’s special for you is having everybody there (and without feeling guilty about what it cost them to come). Offer to help her find someplace closer; maybe suggest having a pre-wedding photo shoot at Lake Perfectweddingspot. Since there’s no wiggle room for friends and relatives who are broke, let’s hope she’ll come to understand that your guests won’t cry fewer tears of joy if you’re saying your vows in your uncle’s pasture. As for what’s “truly special,” anybody can have a fancy hotel wedding; how many women get the opportunity to have bridesgoats?
Doctors without borders
My normally very sweet boyfriend told me that the doctor who gave him his physical was hot and flirted like she was into him. I told him he could’ve kept all that to himself. He said that she just is hot and that if she were ugly, he would’ve told me that instead. Clearly, he was checking her out, and I think it’s disrespectful to tell me about it.
The line from Cole Porter is “Birds do it, bees do it,” not “birds and bees get a committee together to discuss it.” Telling her how you feel could be icky and embarrassing if she doesn’t share your feelings — and maybe even if she does. You’ve heard of “plausible deniability”? If you decide to go for something with her, what you need is plausible drunkability. Have drinks with her, get a little fuzzed, and make a move on her. If she recoils in horror, it was the alcohol talking. If she kisses back or, better yet, is all over you like freezer burn on mysterious leftovers, follow up by asking her on a date. (Emphasize the D-word, reinforcing that your interest is more than friendzonely.) Sure, by making a move, you risk losing a friend. By doing nothing, you risk missing out on a lot more. Life is risk. You can either hide under your bed or opt for managed risk. That doesn’t mean managing risk out of existence; it means having a plan for damage control if things go badly. (“Captain Morgan, next time, you behave yourself!”)
(c)2012, Amy Alkon, all rights reserved. Got a problem? Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave., #280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or e-mail AdviceAmy@aol.com (www.advicegoddess.com)
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Read Amy Alkon’s book: “I SEE RUDE PEOPLE: One woman’s battle to beat some manners into impolite society” (McGraw-Hill, $16.95).