Love and marriage... and the perfect china pattern

Anytime you begin to feel sorry for yourself and feel like things just couldn’t get any worse, I invite you to attend a torturous little event called a department store bridal show. I went to one last week because I love my friend MM to death and she wanted to go in order to get some ideas for her wedding. I learned during the course of the two-hour event why she and I are such good friends—because she doesn’t take things too seriously either and is still my friend after listening to me giggle and whisper comments all night.
I just couldn’t help myself. It was like being transported to another dimension-- the one where money is not a consideration and brides are given permission to become the selfish, demanding “bridezillas” they sometimes turn into. The show included two presentations from representatives of companies that provide china, silver and other items to the store. I’d be hard pressed to choose which presentation was more obnoxious—the one that used every stereotype about men ever written (“Ladies, you know men won’t stop and ask for directions.”) or the one where the woman advised the brides, “Your mom, your friends, your mother-in-law and your husband will try to tell you what to do. But this is about you and what you want.” (I’m sorry, I thought this was about making a commitment to your spouse in front of your friends and family—not how much loot you can rake in!) She also advised the brides, “This is like a Christmas list. You should put everything on it you’ve ever wanted.” At that point, I was ready to sign up for a registry that included “A sense of perspective,” “True love” and “Smaller hips.” (Oops, that last one slipped in!)
Anyway, the night was capped off with a fashion show that included a male model with one move (“Walk to the front of the runway, stomp, stomp, turn head… walk to back and repeat.”) and one of the best narrators I’ve ever heard (in terms of material for my blog—not for anything she said). The woman—the manager of the bridal registry department at this store—was a short, squat, 65-year-old with a smoker’s voice. Which is what made it so funny to hear her say things like, “The luxurious fabrics against your skin” and hit on one of the male models.
Like I said, I’m glad I’m friends with MM and not with any of the woman trying to make the brides believe gifts equal true love. We had a ball filling in MM’s fiancé about the evening and as we all laughed about it, I recognized what will make their marriage last—and it’s not a $200 silver charger to accent their dining room table. It’s not the amount of gifts they’ll get at their wedding, how expensive her dress is, what color the bridesmaids wear or when the invitations go out. It’s about two people who care about how the other spent the day, who can scoff at company reps who have no idea what creates happiness in a relationship, who are fun enough to have a chocolate fountain at their wedding and who are willing to put up with some girl from Connecticut who couldn’t help but laugh.
-KAT