blah, blah, blah, but when else in my entire life am I going to get a diamond ring? Never. This was my one chance and I blew it.
september 15th
EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD
Your engagement ring is lovely.
ME
Thank you. It’s a family heirloom.
EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD
Ah, I was wondering why you didn’t get a diamond.
Yeah, me too, asshole.
september 19th
M andy’s a walking time bomb. Say the wrong thing, touch her the wrong way, suggest she eat something more substantial than low-sodium consommé, and she’ll snap your neck like a diseased twig.
But she smiled continuously from the wedding rehearsal to her rehearsal dinner at the oh-so-elegant Chez Jacques. And when Marcel, our snotty waiter, mistakenly referred to her as Madame instead of Mademoiselle, I swear I thought she’d take her butter knife to his heart. But her smile never once faltered. Like Prudence—only armed with cutlery.
And thank God for that cutlery, because the food was terrific. All sorts of delicacies you rarely get to eat because you’re too old to order the children’s portion but old enough to owe rent. Escargot, foie gras, baked brie, and pâté. Stephen and I ate everything that would fit in our mouths.
But not Mandy. No sluggishness, hangover, or water retention for this bride-to-be.
The highlight of the evening came when Mandy’s dad made a toast. He praised her for growing up to be such a poised young woman. And while this made me suspect that he’d been out of town during her anguished search for place-card holders to coordinate with her burgundy organza overlays, it did make me teary. I mean, here was this sixty-something corporate lawyer who’s spent the last forty years downsizing companies, facilitating hostile takeovers, and pink-slipping entire towns, choking up while publicly professing his love for his child. Sure, he’d deny his own mother medical treatment if her HMO didn’t cover the procedure, but his love for his daughter was just so touching. In fact, the whole evening was loving and heartwarming and would have been perfect had Jon not been there. I mean, come on. Even
his
family doesn’t seem to like him.
I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring.
As for our rehearsal dinner, I have to admit that I think it’s old-fashioned to expect the groom’s family to pay for it. 18 It’s like a throwback to the days when women viewed their engagement rings as an insurance policy against their virtue. If they got dumped before the wedding, then their diamond’s trade-in value would compensate for their sullied purity.
Well, these days purity is more about soap than sex, so I see no need to be prehistoric about our wedding costs. On the other hand, the Stewarts are a bit on the traditional side—except for Mr. Stewart’s generationally challenged girlfriend. I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered to pay for the whole thing. I just hope it’s not too outlandish. As a decorator Mrs. Stewart spends every day preoccupiedwith appearance and taste and style. She may insist on turning it into a real “affair” at Le Cirque or Tavern on the Green.
I’d be happy with a celebratory gathering down in Chinatown. After all, nothing says I love you like a plate of sesame noodles.
----
18 Although I’m certain the prospect of pawning their son off on another family was enough motivation for Jon’s folks to shell out the cash.
september 20th
T alk about overkill. Mandy’s wedding was more like a coronation than a blessed event. From the 250 guests to the doves and the horse-drawn carriage, EXCESS had its day.
Dynasty
meets Liberace, Marie Antoinette, and Cher.
And no, that’s not the wind whistling. It’s the jubilant cheers of a wedding planner putting an addition onto her house. Who knew Mandy’s parents had so much disposable income?
Our pucker-mouth lemon dresses were UNDERSTATED in this setting. And Jon, what an idiot! He wore a morning coat at
night.
Do top hat and tails mean anything to
september 15th
EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD
Your engagement ring is lovely.
ME
Thank you. It’s a family heirloom.
EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD
Ah, I was wondering why you didn’t get a diamond.
Yeah, me too, asshole.
september 19th
M andy’s a walking time bomb. Say the wrong thing, touch her the wrong way, suggest she eat something more substantial than low-sodium consommé, and she’ll snap your neck like a diseased twig.
But she smiled continuously from the wedding rehearsal to her rehearsal dinner at the oh-so-elegant Chez Jacques. And when Marcel, our snotty waiter, mistakenly referred to her as Madame instead of Mademoiselle, I swear I thought she’d take her butter knife to his heart. But her smile never once faltered. Like Prudence—only armed with cutlery.
And thank God for that cutlery, because the food was terrific. All sorts of delicacies you rarely get to eat because you’re too old to order the children’s portion but old enough to owe rent. Escargot, foie gras, baked brie, and pâté. Stephen and I ate everything that would fit in our mouths.
But not Mandy. No sluggishness, hangover, or water retention for this bride-to-be.
The highlight of the evening came when Mandy’s dad made a toast. He praised her for growing up to be such a poised young woman. And while this made me suspect that he’d been out of town during her anguished search for place-card holders to coordinate with her burgundy organza overlays, it did make me teary. I mean, here was this sixty-something corporate lawyer who’s spent the last forty years downsizing companies, facilitating hostile takeovers, and pink-slipping entire towns, choking up while publicly professing his love for his child. Sure, he’d deny his own mother medical treatment if her HMO didn’t cover the procedure, but his love for his daughter was just so touching. In fact, the whole evening was loving and heartwarming and would have been perfect had Jon not been there. I mean, come on. Even
his
family doesn’t seem to like him.
I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring.
As for our rehearsal dinner, I have to admit that I think it’s old-fashioned to expect the groom’s family to pay for it. 18 It’s like a throwback to the days when women viewed their engagement rings as an insurance policy against their virtue. If they got dumped before the wedding, then their diamond’s trade-in value would compensate for their sullied purity.
Well, these days purity is more about soap than sex, so I see no need to be prehistoric about our wedding costs. On the other hand, the Stewarts are a bit on the traditional side—except for Mr. Stewart’s generationally challenged girlfriend. I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered to pay for the whole thing. I just hope it’s not too outlandish. As a decorator Mrs. Stewart spends every day preoccupiedwith appearance and taste and style. She may insist on turning it into a real “affair” at Le Cirque or Tavern on the Green.
I’d be happy with a celebratory gathering down in Chinatown. After all, nothing says I love you like a plate of sesame noodles.
----
18 Although I’m certain the prospect of pawning their son off on another family was enough motivation for Jon’s folks to shell out the cash.
september 20th
T alk about overkill. Mandy’s wedding was more like a coronation than a blessed event. From the 250 guests to the doves and the horse-drawn carriage, EXCESS had its day.
Dynasty
meets Liberace, Marie Antoinette, and Cher.
And no, that’s not the wind whistling. It’s the jubilant cheers of a wedding planner putting an addition onto her house. Who knew Mandy’s parents had so much disposable income?
Our pucker-mouth lemon dresses were UNDERSTATED in this setting. And Jon, what an idiot! He wore a morning coat at
night.
Do top hat and tails mean anything to
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