The pressure of your own party
I just ran into one of the male maids of honor for one of these November weddings I’m going to. The wedding is next weekend, and he’s a little . . . stressed.
The toast, the outfit, the present, all the details he’s in charge of arranging–but maybe the biggest responsibility is helping the bride enjoy her own damn party.
Because that’s the thing. Weddings can be such a high-wire affair, with family and guest pressures (all the exes and steps and which cousins should you invite and can people bring children, or just the well-behaved children, and how do you word that on the invitation? etc.), and then there’s the issue of wanting that one special day in your life to be supernaturally PERFECT, and someone–maybe you and your honey, maybe your parents–has spent a LOT of money, and you’re supposed to look more beautiful/handsome than you ever have in your life–so yeah, a little stress there.
I told my friend that he’d have to do what one of the Wilderness First Responder instructors recommended when you first approach someone who has one of those gruesome backcountry injuries: open up a jar of calm and spread it over the scene.
Easy for me to say. I’m one of those people who really doesn’t enjoy my own parties. For several years my husband and I threw an annual holiday party that about a hundred people came to. During the two weeks before the party I lovingly cooked every dish we would serve, which meant that by the time the party arrived I was tired and angry and feeling totally put-upon. And let me be clear: NO ONE made me cook all that food or decorate the house or invite a hundred people. I did all those things because I felt that’s how it should be done. What an idiot. The horde would show up, they’d all have a great time drinking and eating and catching up, and I just held on and kept going until we finally kicked the last guest out and I could go to bed and suck my thumb.
Even though we gave up the insanity of that party, every now and then I’ll get a wild hair and decide to invite over eight or ten people, and by the time the night arrives I’m wondering what play I thought I was in, and who I thought my character was–some New York socialite who actually likes to entertain? The problem is, I really like my friends, and sometimes I really want to have them over, but it turns out what I actually want is to throw on a pair of sweats and go sit at one of their houses and just talk for a couple of hours. Why I can’t remember that is beyond me.
So where are you on the party scale? Do you love your own parties or kind of sort of dread them? And if you’re married, did you enjoy your own wedding?
Technorati Tags: Weddings, Parties, Male Maid of Honor, Entertaining
October 29th, 2006 at 6:34 pm
“open up a jar of calm and spread it over the scene.”
That is a great line.
And in regard to throwing parties, I’m a SCROOGE. IN ALL CAPS. I loves the people I loves, but my kind of romp would involve sweats or comfy pajamas and Dominoe’s delivery with much vegetation, gabbing, and not-trying-to-impress-anyone activities.
October 29th, 2006 at 7:56 pm
Glad to know I’m not the only one!
October 30th, 2006 at 10:14 am
I am my parents’ daughter. I love throwing parties.
Senior year in college, my roommate and I had a party in my suite every single Friday night… all year long.
October 30th, 2006 at 10:41 am
Oh my gosh, Diana. See, you’re one of those people I pretend to be whenever I think I’m ready to throw a party.
But it’s not an act for you. I stand amazed.
October 30th, 2006 at 11:09 am
I have no relation to Diana’s parents. As far as anyone here knows….
I have a friend who is so good at parties that Candle Party, Pampered Chef, Tupperware sales people can smell her from three states over. Granted these are New England sized states, but still.
I like the idea of having parties at my house, but I would need Diana for a spouse, if that was the case. Of course, I’m a little to controlling to be a good host. I would say things like, “No, you can’t go swimming. That’s not for another hour. Now is when we DANCE!”
I say that, but I planned my wedding and that was a blast, although I doubt my brother’s father-in-law remembers it so fondly.
October 31st, 2006 at 9:15 am
Patrick, it’s funny you mentioned that spouse thing. I have this friend from college whose little brother crashed at my folk’s place one Spring Break. One impromptu champagne-tasting party later, he offered to marry me or any of my siblings (should their preferences tend towards the masculine), and/or offer himself up for adoption. Then his sister, my friend, said not if she got to us first. Cue fistfight.
Ah, good times.