I Do. Really. I Do.

by Paul Giles
May 1, 2007

It's Spring. Prime wedding season. Brides are running rampant through the streets getting fitted for the gowns they've dieted to fit into, corralling overweight bridesmaids into ugly dresses only an anorexic fashion model would look good in and generally losing touch with reality. Their fiancÈs are sitting in front of the tube watching ball games and popping open another Budweiser. Every day I thank God for that Y chromosome.

If you're a man about to put on the bands, you may have noticed a change in your lady's demeanor: da closer the wedding gets, da meaner she becomes. Her stress level is hitting the same highs as the summer temperatures in Death Valley and her irritableness rivals Whitney Houston's when she can't get a fix. If you're the groom, you have no idea why this is happening, but every day you thank God for ballgames and Budweiser.

Why? This is the day she's been dreaming of since she was six, but it's the day you've been dreading since conception. Guys don't care much about the actual wedding. To them, it's a philosophical concept, like how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, or the Cubs winning the World Series. Here's an example. A woman gets married in an incredibly expensive gown she'll only wear once but will keep and cherish for the rest of her life. A guy gets married in the same rented tux a dozen other guys got married in. That means your threads of choice for the most important day of your life are hand-me-downs. You'll return it a week later and not once for the rest of your life will you think about that tux, although 20 years later you'll harbor the fantasy that you can still fit into it.

I was lucky. My wife didn't want a formal ceremony. My wedding, over 30 years ago, was a simple affair. No tux, no expensive wedding gown, no church. It was a backyard picnic in California. We didn't even have a priest. I'm not even sure who married us, exactly. I remember he was licensed by the state to do weddings, tattoos and taxidermy. There was a discount if you got all three, but my wife wasn't willing to kill one of the cats for only 10% off.

If you're a guy who's about to get married, you'll want to try to keep your fiancÈ from going "Bride of Chucky" on your ass. That will be difficult. Almost anything you say can set off an eruption so unexpected, your new pet name for her will be IED. The wrong answer to an innocuous question might set off a chain reaction that will make Chernobyl seem like a little too much summer sun. Here are some suggestions to make sure your wedding video isn't filmed by the crew from "Cops."

Pretend you care about what kind of flowers you get. There are so many floral choices available for a wedding, ranging from very expensive to obscenely exorbitant. She'll ask which you prefer, even though you wouldn't know a lily from Lily Munster. Act concerned. Look carefully at the choices. Then smile brightly and say, "Honey, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She'll smile, too, hugging you and squealing, "Yes! The irises with the tiny rosebuds and sprigs of baby's breath! I knew you'd like it!" You can have the florist translate that for you later.

Let her pick the music for the reception. She'll want a 12-piece orchestra she heard of that plays tunes you laugh at your parents for listening to. You'll want a DJ who'll play "Smoke on the Water" at least once and "The Chicken Dance" every 20 minutes. Compromise. Either find 12 chickens who can play instruments or go with the orchestra.

Act like you were joking when you suggest the appetizers at the reception should be little hot dogs on toothpicks and a bowl of catsup. Your bride will spend more time tasting tiny squares of bread topped with cheeses you never heard of and dicey-looking greens you can't pronounce than you'll spend in front of the TV watching 162 baseball games. That's because there seems to be a competition of sorts between new brides. The one who can say with a straight face, "Well, I was going to serve the imported Peruvian mango and plantain salsa over the crusted ginger salmon tongues, but decided to be different and go with the fugo caviar, quail's egg and alpaca tenders on finger-sized organic yeast cakes" wins.

Feign interest over the wedding favors. You're not sure why women go gaga over travel candles, sachets and tiny glass slippers, but they do. That is until they get them home and realize they've just kept another piece of dust-gathering junk that won't look good anywhere. Your job is to look at her choice and coo, "Awwww! That's so cute! Aren't they adorable! THAT is going to make the whole DAY seem like a walk-off grand slam on a 3-2 count with two out in the bottom of the ninth."

Never disagree about which people she wants to invite. Sure, you may not have gotten along with her too well up till now, but it's definitely not a good idea to say, "God, do we have to?" when she's addressing an invitation to her mother.

Never insist on inviting people she doesn't think you should invite. Your friends are important to you, but this day is more important to her. If she says no to Frankie "Grease Fingers" DiAngelo, even though he'll be wearing the ankle monitor at all times, he doesn't come.

Let her think your honeymoon is all about getting to know each other better. To your bride, the honeymoon is the first step to decades of marital bliss, when your hearts and minds become one in a romantic melding, blessed by fate and destined for eternal love. Don't let her know your only thoughts are getting drunk on the beach each day and getting laid three times each night.

Don't have your best man make the dinner toast unless you've read and edited his speech beforehand. The last thing you need just before your wedding night is to hear him say, "Dave, I never thought I'd live to see the day when you'd marry a girl you once said had too fat an ass to sleep with before last call and you were really smashed."

There are a lot more tips I can give you, but there are two out in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, a 3-2 count and A-Rod's at bat. I had my wedding and learned my lessons. From now on, you're on your own. Sort of. Your bride-to-be will be there with you from now on. Changing the channel just as the pitch leaves the mound.