The Pursuit of Perfection

Listen up, all you brides-to-be. If it hasn't already, your wedding will take on a life of its own. And it doesn't need any extra help from you.

Just look around at the sheer number of wedding books, wedding shops, wedding shows, wedding foods, wedding music, and wedding consultants. Entire sectors of the US economy hinge on this nuptial craze. There is no rational explanation for this.  But then, there's no explanation for the chunky heel, either.

I, too, have faced "the list."
I know - it reads like the yellow pages (oh wait - it IS the yellow pages.)
Or War and Peace (oh wait - it IS…) Never mind.

I happen to be a tad on the compulsive side. Though I actually prefer the label "organized" to the more common (but less dainty) "control freak." I fancied that if I was focused enough, that I could control not only the success of every segment and detail associated with one simple little wedding, but also possibly global weather conditions, and the value of the Euro-dollar.

I believe this is called "pride" and is one of the deadly sins, right after the one about leaving the toilet seat up.

But I had my wedding blinders on. Just stick to the list, thought I. Keep ahead of the details, kill all those pesky opportunities for spontaneity, and VOILA! Perfection is guaranteed!

(I'll pause until you stop laughing.)

There are three major flaws to this reasoning. First, there is not, nor has there ever been a perfect wedding. There was one couple in ancient Greece that came awfully close, but at the last minute the Romans invaded, crashed the reception, and they ran out of champagne punch.

Second, everyone in the free world will tell you their wedding horror stories. I don't know why this is - probably the same basic human need to tell colorful tales of compound fractures and triple concussions to our friends leaving on ski vacations. Nevertheless, understand that these people mean well. Even as they bring up that rancid-communion-wafer-emergency-room-stomach-pump debacle in living color (with sound effects.) Gee - thanks.

Don't think even for a minute that you can keep your mind clear of these negative images that are the essence of self-fulfilling prophecy. Mark my words; you'll be up there at the altar re-playing all this stuff in your head, instead of remembering your fiancé's middle name.

Third, if you really throw yourself into the preventative mindset, you may overshoot and ultimately get carted off for treatment. I would imagine.

For example, it stands to reason that the domed-shape of a hoop skirt makes an excellent storage facility. You know - for useful items such as cans of fix-a-flat and jumper cables (your basic limousine emergency road kit) and extra fly swatters. Am I right or am I right? But folks get funny looks on their faces when the bride rattles like a peddler.

Furthermore, if you ask your smaller-breasted bridesmaids to pack extra first-aid supplies, they will not see the practicality, but instead insist you're quite mad. The ushers will likewise refuse to knot snakebite kits into their bow ties - citing the season (January) and location (Arctic) as reasonable precaution. But one can never be 100% sure, can one?

And what of the fire extinguisher laced into the bouquet? Haven't they ever heard of "spontaneous human combustion"?

Alas, after a bit of shock treatment (no - not in that medical facility. I'm talking about Uncle Harry at the reception) I discovered that all that is magic and meaningful comes with a component outside control. Just as no baby comes into this world in pain-free perfection, neither should one expect a wedding day to go without a hitch (though it would be helpful if painkillers applied equally in both cases.)

Better late than never, I've wised up to the fact that there is only so much perfection in the world to go around. And I'm happy to report that the guy I married was hogging most of it.