How many times in one’s life does one get to utter that phrase? Yet somehow, I found myself saying exactly that to JJ today. And low and behold, it was somehow related to the wedding.
For the uneducated (which, let’s face it, I really should just refer to as “unmarried men” at this point), whose South Park-induced mindsets have already run wild with the possible interpretations of this phrase, “STD” is knottie-speak for Save The Date cards.
Right, because that helped.
For the uneducated, a “Save The Date card” is a little invitation you send people who will be invited to the wedding which tells them that in a few months they’ll be getting an invitation.
The more naive of you may have thought to question this. I too fell into this trap.
“Why don’t we just send them the actual invitation?”
“Because invitations only go out 2 months before the wedding.”
Adopting a policy of choosing my battles (which is to say, avoiding them entirely), I chose to punch out of that conversation immediately. For your own safety, I suggest not posting any comments inquiring further into this; trust me, further explanation does not help.
Now, I’ve been pretty good so far on this blog about not being outright sexist in my remarks on the production commonly referred to as a “wedding”. The concept of the Save The Date card, however, is very much a product of the Unholy Wedding Trinity, developed by women, for women. Men take a slightly less… for lack of a better word, elaborate, approach.
“Yo dude, I’m getting married.”
“No shit? Sorry man.”
“It’s cool. It’s May 28.”
“Do I have to buy you a present?”
“Yes. And shower the night before too.”
Allow me to offer another example of this phenomenon. A few days ago, I was working on a big project with the other tech leads in work. We were all crammed into a small cubicle, working as fast as possible to hit a deadline of 5pm. Meg sends me a link to a post on theknot.com. Intrigued and throwing caution to the wind as far as my policy of avoiding theknot.com like a golfer from a real job, I decided to see just what could have been so important as to show me at work. As I’m reading the post, I came across a term I had never heard of.
“What’s a ‘Tears of Joy Packet’?”
“Oh, ya. I need you to make labels for them.”
“But what are they?”
“Tissue packets to hand to guests who may cry.”
I’m dead serious, that’s what they are.
Hopefully, one of the guys I work with will vouch for the fact that I literally dropped my head into my hands at this. They showed concern, afraid the pressure of the 5pm drop was getting to me. So I broke down and told them about this nugget of wedding wisdom to which I had just been introduced.
“No shit? Sorry man.”
I get no further sympathy from them as they are all married; it’s my time to pay the “plan a wedding” dues.
My drive to and from work is pretty boring. I found myself wondering what other concepts existed with regard to weddings that I have never encountered, including:
“How Much Was Your Dress Packets”
“What The Hell Are Seat Covers Packets”
“After All This I Have To Buy You A Present Packets”
The other side effect of these save the date cards is that prior to actually mailing them, they served as flash cards for the guest list. (The names and relations of the following conversation have been changed to protect… well, me. Any resemblance of real family members to the fictional characters following is completely a coincidence. In other words, don’t yell at me if I have somehow managed to describe you in the following)
“Um… your side?”
“No jackass, that’s from your mother’s list.”
“Oh ya, that’s Uncle Johnny.”
“You’re mom’s cousin, but close. Let’s try again. Jane Doe.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Ok, my side. Red headed bastard step child?”
“Actually, you’re right about that part. Martin Dobies.”
“Are you even paying attention?”
“How about Nancy Battaglino?”
“Oh, I know her, that’s that woman that’s always giving me shit on my own web site.”
I’m hoping it’s just that I’m not overly familiar with names. Let’s face it, half of the guest list from my side ended in “Dobies”; I can’t be expected to remember all these people on first name alone. Hopefully, I’ll recognize these people by face at the wedding, otherwise the whole walk-around-and-introduce-the-bride portion of the reception is going to be really uncomfortable. So please, I beg of you to sign the guest book and tell me how you are related to me, so I at least have a fighting chance of getting it right.