For the past couple of weeks, Meg has added a new nightly ritual to her arsenal. Each night, she scurries over to the mailbox, grabs the mail, takes the opportunity on the walk back to the house to spy on any neighbors, and then dumps on the kitchen table any mail that is not one of our RSVPs. She then puts the newest data into her extraordinarily elaborate wedding spreadsheet (insert Villanova business major joke here) and calculates the new percentage of people that need to reply positively in order to hit our minimum.
I too have begun a new nightly routine, however it’s not nearly as structured. Around 4pm every day, I try to find a new reason to not go home at night until well after I assume Meg has gone to sleep. Jiu-jitsu is great for this, though I think people are starting to wonder why I stay after class for 30 minutes running, stretching, or otherwise staring at the wall waiting for time to pass.
It’s typically a futile effort, as Meg’s estrogen fueled 11th hour wedding planning adrenaline rush keeps her awake well past myself lately. Inevitably, I have to arrive home and pass through the reaches of Bridezilla’s Lair on my way to blissful slumber.
And so, each night I get home and am met with the day’s newest batch of obtuse relatives who only come out of the woodwork for weddings.
Many moons ago, before we were engaged but still talking about getting married- which is to say, Meg waved her left hand around complaining there was no big ring on it to weigh it down- I realized something that, at the time, I had thought made me wise beyond my years. Seeing as I was to be the one doing the proposing, and fully realizing that once the wedding planning momentum began I would have no say whatsoever, the pre-engagement time was for me to negotiate the terms of my surrender. One of the biggest issues that came up during this purgatory was the head count at the wedding.
I can vividly remember one night, a few blocks from my old apartment, discussing the topic. Meg’s original estimate was close to 350 people.
I almost veered off the road.
In case you couldn’t gather from my past ranting and raving about the invitations, I am much more in favor of a small wedding. I figured, with as anxious as Meg was to get married, I would be able to hold out on her until she scaled down the wedding from the grand ball she originally envisioned. Surprisingly, I was successful (read: stupidly, I was fooled). After a 2 year campaign, I had talked Meg down to 150 people.
Fast forward to about a month ago. We went to Drexelbrook to meet with their coordinator. She asked how many people we had invited.
Ignoring the look on my face, the coordinator took the opportunity to inform us that the room only fits 220 people. I actually smiled at this, realizing that this puts the table of misfit family somewhere in the parking lot. At this point in the planning cycle, I think I am really trying to embrace the idea of lemonade.
I mention that story to justify my reaction to Meg’s daily RSVP report. In the beginning, we were hit with a flood of positive responses. When we got our first negative, I actually was excited. For you grooms-to-be out there who have yet to hit this oh-so-fun part of the planning process, realize that excitement over people who can’t attend is not the correct emotion to exhibit.
In Meg’s daily RSVP report, she sets aside a small amount of time to describe to me the noteworthy RSVPs. Two, in particular, stand out in my mind.
First off, for those of you who don’t know, I work on software for a contract sponsored by the Department of Defense. In our last planning meeting, we got to use the terms “artillery” and “nuclear weapons”. Suffice it to say, I work with some very talented programmers.
Incidentally, they have been the ones to make the most errors on their RSVPs so far. One RSVP informed me that a team member will be attending… but apparently, he’s not planning on being hungry that day, or perhaps he’s bringing his own food, as no meal was selected. Another coworker did realize to convert his “and Guest” to his girlfriend’s name on the RSVP card, however she is also not planning on being hungry that day.
At the same time, we have received a few more creative responses. Nancy, not to miss an opportunity to in some small way give me a hard time, made a comment on the RSVP regarding our packaging of the invitations. My friend Thadd informed us that not only will him and his wife attend, but JB will most definitely not attend (again, very few people can properly appreciate that joke, but trust me, it was damn funny).
I’m pretty sure that yesterday marked the deadline for the RSVPs (yes, I honestly do not know what the real deadline is). If there is anyone reading this that have not yet sent in their RSVP, for the love of all that is good and holy, please send it in. Meg knows who you are, and she will hunt you down.