I normally post (OK, mostly lurk) on the Bump and the Nest but after my "wedding" experience a couple of weeks ago, I thought you might enjoy this nugget of tastelessness...where to begin.....I attended the event with my husband, our married friends Anne and Ian and another friend, Lisa. Several of us know the bride through work. We did not know another soul at the “wedding”. Since the bride mentioned several times leading up to this event how “hurt” she would be if she didn’t see certain people at her “wedding” we all felt a bit of pressure to attend. This may be a very good time to explain my use of quotation marks in regards to the “wedding”. I use them because this wasn’t a wedding, this was a reception; the wedding took place over a month ago in a tropical destination - a wedding to which NO ONE was invited (no parents, siblings, friends, etc…). I am only calling it a wedding because that is how the bride referred to it in the weeks leading up to the event.
The bride demanded that all guests wear semi-formal attire within a certain color scheme - dark blue, purple or (drumroll, please) silver. Stress on me right off the bat. I did not have anything to wear within the approved color scheme and finances have been a bit tight in my home recently. No way could I justify a semi-formal dress in the budget. My friend Lisa was in the same boat – she’s a single Mom of two, deadbeat ex, blah, blah, blah. She bought a dress that she really couldn’t afford. Anne was also in the same boat. The last time I saw her in a dress was 9 years ago and it was her wedding dress! We all got over it, however, and found something to wear. We headed to the party ready to have a good time.We arrive at the neighborhood community center. The bride greets us. It is then that I notice what she is wearing – a sun dress and bedazzled Keds. We stressed about what to wear, bought clothing that we couldn’t afford all in an effort to abide by the bride’s color palette and semi-formal request and this is what she is wearing!?! I was slightly irritated. Until I noticed what we were being served to eat….Then I was really irritated.Instead of the Mexican food “buffet” that we had been told about we find a mish-mash of crock-pots and chafing dishes (and a serious lack of serving utensils). This isn’t a buffet – this is a potluck.So, what’s a guest to do? I find a seat and start searching for the “margarita bar” that I had been promised. I didn’t hear any whirring blenders so I looked at the next best thing – the beer and wine service. I approach. I ask for red wine. I’m handed a cup of what looked like a cab, a merlot, a zin – I didn’t really care….I taste it. It’s homebrew. It is berry flavored home brew. My husband asks for a beer. They point to the large white cooler off to the side. Cans of Budweiser. I get the, “Oh, you sooo owe me look.” Budweiser might be the only beer he doesn’t like. It was at this point that I noticed people with the kind of beer my husband enjoys. I ask them where they got it, “we brought it” was there response. Oh. A potluck and B.Y.O.B. I missed the memo.I brave the buffet. Bad choice. Less than an hour after eating, I started to feel a bit queasy. I lean over and tell Anne that I’m not feeling great. She mentions that Ian is sick as well. Interestingly enough, we are the only two at our table who ate the food. We all agree that it is time to go. It’s been almost two hours, I’m not feeling well and the constant pounding of the rap music that is their wedding playlist is starting to make want to put a cap in someone’s A**. Ian agrees to go tell the bride and groom our party is leaving and say a personal good –bye from all of us. AND THEN.I look up from our table only to see Ian dancing a slow song dance with the Bride. No big, right? Except that this was the only slow song played all night. The Bride had not danced with the Groom, her father or anyone else for that matter. AND….the bride has been seriously crushing on Ian for years. It has been a constant joke between Anne and myself for ages. The look on Anne’s face was priceless. Even my husband noticed – and he never notices anything. Ian comes back to our table and states, “I was totally shanghaied. What was I going to do, say no?” We left. I woke up sick two different times that night (use your imagination). In the morning Anne had texted me to tell me that 1.) Ian had been sick the entire night as well and food poisoning was most likely the culprit and 2.) The Bride had already texted Ian to invite him and Anne to a “game night” and said she needed help to eat all the food left over from the wedding. They declined the invitation.