Date #7 wants me to go to the rehearsal dinner for his brother’s wedding. Under ordinary circumstances, this would be cause for celebration: a man I met on the internet wants me to meet his parents!
I have never, in the entire history of my Great Date Experiment, reached the point of being introduced to anybody’s parents (well, aside from the time that the Bovary Reading Bachelor’s neighbors “accidentally” dropped by during our first and last date…) and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.
But these are not ordinary circumstances.
You see, Date #7 and I don’t actually get along all that well. We’re great on paper, and we both agree that we have great “potential,” but working well on paper is different than working well in real life and potential doesn’t supersede the present. If our brief history is of any indication, the more time I spend with him, the greater the likelihood that I’ll end up pissed off and I don’t want to be pissed off at the wedding; I want to be happy.
I mean, his brother is getting married for crying out loud! I want us to enjoy ourselves, without the usual melodrama and histrionics that have come to characterize our interactions, and the only way to ensure that this actually happens is to either A) drink myself silly before the ceremony or B) avoid spending too much time with Date #7 before the big day.
Option A is off the table because I’ve insisted on driving myself to and from the wedding and Option B—well, if that’s not the indicator of an entirely healthy relationship, I don’t know what is.
Besides, I have issues with rehearsal dinners and wedding parties in general. I’ve never been in a wedding. Ever. And the one and only time I was invited to a rehearsal dinner was when my cousin got married ten years ago. Being only sixteen at the time and not particularly close to any of my already-married-cousins, I felt so out of place that I volunteered to go home to my aunt’s house and babysit the bride’s nephews instead.
Nonetheless, I’ve always been a bit curious about rehearsal dinners. And wedding parties. And what it would feel like to go to a wedding without sitting out all of the slow songs…
So I’ve accepted his invitation (and am now praying that I don’t end up a weeping, disgruntled mess huddled in the corner somewhere and gnawing on my own carefully painted fingernails…).
In the meantime, please share your rehearsal dinner success/horror stories so I’ll know what to expect.
- Wedding rehearsal dinner… (emilyanthony.blogspot.com)
- Thirty-four Years Ago Today (livingingraceland.wordpress.com)