For my first foray into the blogosphere, I thought it would be appropriate to build upon that lovely introduction I was given a few days back, and discuss the genesis of how I got my street cred in the wacky world of weddings. Much like The Godfather 2, Batman Begins, and Dumb & Dumberer: When Harry Met Lloyd, I figured any great story needs a prequel to explain the roots of its beginning.
For me it all started in 2006, when I was asked to be a groomsman for the first time. I barely knew what being a groomsman entailed at this point (escort a hot bridesmaid down the aisle (and maybe home), right?), let alone had any clue what responsibilities came with the job. Nonetheless, I accepted his offer since a) it sounded like an honor, and b) my ego generally pushes me to accept any/all titles, responsibilities, and acknowledgments of excellence.
From my acceptance to be a groomsman through the wedding weekend, I would get a quick boot camp style education in what this whole wedding process actually meant for anyone that wasn't the bride or groom. I’ll break it down for you like this:
ENGAGEMENT PARTY
Attending the engagement party required me to buy a pointless gift off of a ridiculous registry, and then actually show up at the event. As I will detail further at a later date, I picked the most absurd items on the registry to give the couple - a meat cleaver and sausage stuffer. Yes, those items were actually on the registry (hey, you ask and you shall receive). At the party I was passed off from Aunt to Aunt, each who somehow knew me (I didn’t know any of them), who wanted to set me up with their daughter and/or daughter’s best friend.
BACHELOR PARTY
For the bachelor party – or last stand at being a free man – I had to travel to a foreign, French-speaking country you may know as Canada, and dropped hundreds of dollars on a Bachelor who wouldn’t even accept a lap dance at an all-nude strip club. For the females, all-nude strip clubs are banned in almost all places/countries, hence why they are referred to as the “Holy Grail” and the reason many bachelor parties (or frat boys) will cross the border.
Dinner was a reasonable (sarcasm) $250. The party organizer, or shall we say scam artist, managed to scheme us into paying out of the group fund for his personal appetizer - a $150 seafood platter - and two expensive Cuban cigars for him. My Petit Filet Mignon, side of mashed potatoes and two Captain and Cokes were certainly worth the two-fifty.
Dinner was a reasonable (sarcasm) $250. The party organizer, or shall we say scam artist, managed to scheme us into paying out of the group fund for his personal appetizer - a $150 seafood platter - and two expensive Cuban cigars for him. My Petit Filet Mignon, side of mashed potatoes and two Captain and Cokes were certainly worth the two-fifty.
WEDDING WEEKEND
Weeks after my cross-the-border bachelor party duties, the wedding weekend was upon us. It began on Friday with the rehearsal dinner, but not before a traditional wedding run through beforehand. Thankfully, for what would be the only time in my "27 Tuxedos" career to date, I was not responsible for giving a speech (they clearly didn’t appreciate my full potential). Instead, the evening involved me imbibing massive amounts of alcohol, more-so pondering who actually gets married at 25 years-old, and wondering why there were no cute and/or single women at this event.
Saturday was the big day. For an 8:00 p.m. ceremony start time, I was asked to arrive at 3:30 p.m. (leaving a Mets/Yankees game early in the process) because we had to take pictures. I learned that “taking pictures” involves the groomsmen sitting in a room with nothing to do for nearly four hours except for watching the Latino waitstaff laugh as I failed on the first six attempts to get my cufflinks on properly.
SIDENOTE: I was forced to stop at Men’s Warehouse on my way to the wedding reception to purchase a new tuxedo shirt (apparently the one I owned was not made to be worn with studs). Why do studs exist and what dude makes his friends wear them? I was also required to wear a cummerbund. When I had gone to pick one up – the owner first laughed in my face and then told me I was the only person under the age of forty to ask for one in the last five years.
I got my first taste of “cupping an elbow” when the ceremony finally began and I did my strut down the aisle (I’ve perfected it at this point and can make any bridesmaid squeal at the professionalism of my elbow cup). I partied the rest of the evening with not a care in the world- probably because I was extremely intoxicated because the cocktail hour was full of foods I don’t eat (shellfish, veggies, caviar). I passed out that evening happy that my time of service to the Groom had finally ended … at least what I thought was over until I got a wake-up call from another groomsman to head the Wedding Brunch together. The early a.m. brunch was a trek across Manhattan and the reason I never wanted to see another wedding again for years.
When all was said and done, my first go-round as a groomsman had done significant damage to both my bank account and my precious free time. The final tally read something like this. Seven days of my life gone to wedding-centric activities and around $1,500 of my hard-earned cash spent on sausage stuffers, Canadian strippers, and an unappetizing cocktail hour. As a 25-year-old, it was extremely difficult to process with nothing to show for it.
AND HERE WE ARE …
Three years, 10+ weddings, three additional groomsman titles, one go as the Best Man, five bachelor parties, and thousands of dollars later, I’ve now become a wedding expert (potentially self-proclaimed). For better or worse, I bare the scarlet letter that is “27 Tuxedos”.
I have a crazy year ahead on the wedding circuit and look forward to sharing various stories, observations and anecdotes with you along the way.
Any topics you want for me to impart my two sense on (I'm always up to offer my opinion), please email me here.
- 27 Tuxedos
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