*Including the words Stark and Wedding in the title may be misleading to some people. This has nothing to do with Game of Thrones.

My favorite part of the wedding is the different approaches we take to certain tasks. We also have wildly different shopping techniques, methods of inviting people to become members of our bridal party, and ideas on what the fun parts of the wedding are.

Fun vs Crippling, Mind-Numbing Boredom

One example of this happened very early on in the process when Christina was up to her eyeballs in spreadsheets, folders, samples, and just general wedding stuff, while I was experiencing the wild throes of football season.

She approached me one evening in the same way your grandfather would before giving you five pounds and telling you not to spend it all in the one shop.
“Do you want a big job? It’s a big responsibility but it’ll be a lot of fun?”
Was this a trap? What could she be giving me? Watch Cake Boss for creative inspiration? Trawl Pinterest for invitation ideas? Listen to every entry on 50 Classic First Dance Songs on theknot.com?
“How much fun is it going to be?” I asked. I wasn’t agreeing to shit until I had more information.
“A lot of fun,” came the swift reply, “a lot of organization but you’ll love it.”
There was nothing but sincerity in her voice, no traces of sarcasm, nothing deceptive or fake. There was almost a reluctance present in her eyes, one that screamed “Please don’t take this job, I want it for myself”. I was definitely intrigued at this point. I wasn’t expecting to be involved so early on in proceedings and she seemed pretty sure that this was a good fit.

“I want you to open a spreadsheet to track our future expenditure for the wedding, broken down into the various categories under which…”
“Whoa, whoa. whoa,” I interrupted through my almost uncontrollable laughter. “You lost me at spreadsheet.”
“Why are you laughing?” she inquired, a bemused, almost punch-drunk look on her face.
“Where in the name of fuck” I sniggered, “did you get the idea that I would have fun doing our wedding budget?”
“You really don’t want to do it?” Her expression had changed to one of deep hurt and anguish at this point. “I really thought I was doing you a favor allowing you to have one of the exciting jobs.” And to this day she still holds that opinion.

Dress Shopping vs Suit Shopping

I didn’t go shopping for Christina’s dress or for her bridesmaid’s dresses. I may as well have though. She has been researching for this through the medium of television since before I met her. It is fair to say the at one point she was watching dangerous amounts of Say Yes to the Dress. Friday was apparently BrideDay on TLC. After a long week at the office I was forced to sit through hours of Say Yes to the DressSay Yes to the Dress: AtlantaFour Weddings, and I Found the Gown. Half the reason I proposed was just so she could find her dress and we could stop watching these fucking shows.

Of course I developed Stockholm Syndrome and began to embrace each show (C’mon just say yes to the dress. That gay best friend of yours clearly has no idea what he’s talking about. You look fah-bew-luss). When the time for dress shopping finally arrived, there was copious pinning, group chats, and Google calendar invites. Mothers, grandmothers, aunts, neighbors, friends were pulled to different appointments on all sides of town. When all of that was done with and she had said yes to the dress, it began all over again with the bridesmaids dresses.

For the suits, we went with the first place recommended to us (shout out to Suit Republic). The only group chat was the one to organize our one trip there as a group. Christina came with us to make sure we didn’t make a bollocks of the whole thing supervise. There was no second appointment and, to the best of my knowledge, no pinning. It was all over and done in an hour.

Asking Bridesmaids vs Asking Groomsmen

When Christina had picked her bridesmaids, she needed a nice way to ask them. She liked the idea of “proposing” to each one individually. She wanted it to be a really special thing and went to all sorts of effort, burning the midnight oil on more than one occasion. She bought little wooden boxes, painted them up in the wedding colours, added painstakingly hand-picked throwback photos, and a nice little ring. On the inside lid of the box was the question “Will you be my bridesmaid?” It was about as cute a thing as you will see and she was very proud of each one. Every night I watched from the couch, scratching myself, and wondering what all the fuss was about. There was generally tears or hugs or some form of elation following each “proposal”.
Me on the other hand: The first night I arrived home, I accidentally and very drunkenly informed Eddie that he didn’t get the big gig and that I was giving it to Dooley. I apologized more than I needed to and told him to keep quiet until I asked Dooley. I’m not quite sure he understood the situation at the time. I asked Dooley in the car while I was driving so as to avoid any awkward hug-it-out scenario that might transpire. I asked my brothers at home in the same way I might have told them I was making chicken curry for dinner and asked if they wanted some. Their replies were on a par too. “Yeah, I suppose, yeah. Do I have to do anything?” Alan got a special visit to his house and got about as animated as Alan gets following the question. They don’t call him Consistently Underwhelmed Sweeney for nothing, I suppose. “Would you have any interest in being a groomsman at me aul’ wedding?” I asked, somewhat inelegantly. “Jeez I probably would have a bit now, yeah. Who are the bridesmaids?” he half-smirked back.

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