You may have heard that on Saturday morning, Meghan Markle will marry Prince Harry, and a few million people will bear witness to it.
Which I’m here for. We know this because I’ve written about it, and we know this because it is me, and I am a person who flies her Royal Wedding flag high, despite not wanting a wedding herself. (Our relationships with marriage are all very complicated, let’s not go into it today.) But as much as I love watching a wedding and attending a wedding, I hate so many things about weddings in general. And because nothing unites us like hating things while loving Meghan and Harry, here are the tropes I hope are avoided over the next couple of days.
A very, very warm venue
Why is every wedding venue warm? Why is my dress sticking to the back of my legs? Why am I sweating from my calves? It’s May. Why is this happening? Who allowed this to happen? And yes, I’m using my wedding program as a makeshift fan, Marjorie, so please stop giving me the evil eye, I am as moist as the guy in the first X-Men movie who emerges from the sea totally nude and ends up morphing into a puddle of water.
WE CAN’T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP. You wanted to have a private, tiny, intimate ceremony? Well you should’ve thought of that before you invited 800 people. I want to hear you say your names and I want to hear you say “I do” or “I will” or whatever-the-fuck it is people say. Is there a mic? Why don’t you speak into a mic. Your Grandmother drove all the way from Cornwall and she can’t hear you. Speak up for your Grandmother. She’s 93.
I mean, I won’t lie to you: I am an emotionless shrew. But why are you crying? Can you not cry during your vows? Again, it’s an audio thing. Also now I feel weird because you’re crying and people around me are crying and I don’t even cry at funerals and I just keep making the same, strained, grimace-smile face, which is horrifying to everybody forced to look at it. Just for a second, make a joke. Somebody please make a joke. I will pay actual cold, hard cash-dollars if anybody makes a joke.
A bizarre food set-up
The thing about weddings is that most of them are attended by adults so should there be a buffet situation, no one is going to push another person out of the way to get to those scallops first. We know how to line up. That’s how buffets work. We’ve all been to many. So stop serving in a numerical order. What’s your problem? Why can’t we just eat like people in restaurants? Can you just treat us like people in restaurants? Put the food out, stand back, and let us fly. Table 42 already feels like a bunch of rejects, you don’t need to make it worse by leaving them the shards of roast leftovers from when the food was brought out three hours ago.
Okay so most of us do not know who’s speaking at your wedding and that’s fine, because it’s not all about us (JK it is always and forever will be all about me, personally, but whatever) but there is a limit to the knowledge we need to have about you and your whoever-it-is-you’re-marrying and that person who took four shots before going up to talk for three minutes about that trip you took to Las Vegas in 2006. We don’t need to know what happened in Las Vegas in 2006. We don’t even need to know what happened in 2006. But now we do, and sexual escapades have been alluded to, and Uncle Kevin had a really heartfelt speech planned to commemorate the loss of a family member, but he has no idea how to follow the tales you told.
In the immortal words of Don Draper being angry and terrible, “Stop talking.” Tell us you like the couple, raise a glass, and get the hell out of there. The only people who get to go on and on are relatives over the age of 60. They’ve earned it. You haven’t, Brody.
A band over regular songs we all know
Why would you do this. Why would you take away the one thing everyone looks forward to at weddings. Do you think I, a grown-ass woman, goes clubbing anymore? No, because I am 32 and I hate everybody. So I look forward to weddings. I get psyched for the chance to let loose to “Rasputin.” But then you hire a band and ruin everything. Sure, they play “covers” and yes they’re not “terrible,” but they are certainly not Boney M and they do not sound like Bruno Mars. And now I’m here, stuck, eating more dessert than I know what to do with while couples slow dance to “Fields of Gold.” Why did you even have a wedding. Don’t you know you could’ve just played the songs from your phone? Was it something I’ve done personally?
Meghan, Harry. Please answer me.