2 minute read
I’M NOT A BRIDEZILLA
by Fact ME
Last Winter some lovely self-preserving impulse came over my blushing partner, and one golden afternoon in Scotland he got down on one knee and proposed to the woman he loves...me. Yeah, that could have been awkward. He says I’m matter-of-fact, funny and strong - the kind of person you can trust to rescue you from your usual daily spiral of pettiness and self-loathing. Like I said: self-preservation. I can remember every detail of the proposal - what he said, or attempted to say; what the light looked like all around and the celebration of food and drink that we enjoyed together in a daze afterwards. The question arose as to whether he had asked my Father’s ‘permission’ to be able to offer me his hand in marriage. He did. My Father accepting such a renouncing of ownership rather frivolously if you ask me. Now, I don’t know about you but this gesture of goodwill sounds rather archaic, but, alas, I’m still waiting for such a loving display of self-mutilation and/or affection - will a high-five do?
One of my friends has previously called me up to have an actual melt down because her so-called-friend got engaged as well and was planning to get married in the same year as she was. Apparently it was her special year and not just a day. She threw a huge fit that this girl was only getting married to “steal her thunder”. May I add that there weddings weren’t even being held in the same season never mind the same month. Brides sometimes don’t think rationally and I for one don’t need the excuse of a wedding to be referenced as such.
Don’t even get me started on the altercations of asking friends to be bridesmaids. It opens up a whole can of worms to those friends who haven’t been selected, with a barrage of questions as to why and a level of self-questioning as to why they didn’t make the final cut. Once when I was a bridesmaid I was told to go to the hairdressers to ‘dye my hair’ and the bride would cover the cost. Of course I questioned said outlandish command, the brides response? My hair was quite ‘attention-grabbing’ and wouldn’t fit with the cohesiveness of the group. Okay then.
Moving back to the hubby-to-be, I started calling him the bride and this began as a joke between us. My joke. I’ve since realised that I’ve been trying to tell him something that he had yet to hear, which is that I have no intention on performing whatever role the woman is usually forced to perform in this situation. He gets it.
It’s something he likes about me (a possible first) and the way I go through life - skepticism, independence in abundance and my ongoing distrust of authority. I think he’s marrying me precisely because I’m not the type of girl who’s super into weddings. I do love cake though...