Micro or macro, it’s wedding season.
Technically, June has bequeathed the title as the posh month for marriage to September.
Who doesn’t love a wedding? On a humid day? In a church? Without air conditioning? The gowns. The bridesmaid dresses. The bets. Will the bride show? Will the groom pass out? Will anyone protest the wedding? Those words, “If anyone sees a reason…” almost made one groom collapse. Especially as his bride-almost-to-be glanced at the guests. Laughing. Actually, it was pretty funny.
But let’s talk about those vows.
Legally, portions must be included, such as the standard, “Do you take Bartholomew…” and “These rings are round, keep them like this.” Well, you get the gist.
When a couple creates their own vows, it’s unique. It’s a further proclamation of the love they share. However, those vows should be vetted.
Poetry as marriage vows? Professing your love in prose? It’s sweet. In a love note. As vows, it’s similar to a drawn out alphabet.
“Samuel, I love you. You’re a good person. You’re my best friend. But ‘I love you’ means more. And here are eight of those reasons. I is for your intelligence. Because you’re smart. L is for the way you love me and make me laugh. O? Because it’s round like the rings we’re exchanging…”
And by this point, you’re sinking into the pew. We understand. The couple loves each other. But, please. Get to U. Because the preceding ceremony was fifty-five minutes.
Still worse. The over the top, soap opera-like vows. Unless they’re a former cast member from All My Children, please, no.
“Mable, (takes in an enormous breath, sucking all the air from the church) I love you. The first night I saw you (bites bottom lip) my heart skipped a beat. Because you stole my heart and a piece of my soul. And today and for the rest of my life (another enormous breath) I’m giving you the rest of my soul. You’re all I’ve ever wanted in a partner. A person. And a human.”
Conclusion: Mable steals hearts and souls, but isn’t a UFO.
Then, we have the emotional couple.
It’s expected one person will breakdown. They will shed a tear or two or five-hundred. Chances are, they are prepared with tissue. Or someone else is prepared. And all is right with the world.
When both cry? It’s as though they’re feeding off each other. Like staticky Walkie Talkies. Now, you’re trapped in a church. Without air conditioning. Or means of escape. Listening to an awkward, crying version of Wheel of Fortune. Trying to interpret soggy vows.
“Jackson, you’re the (undecipherable) and I promise to (sounds like ‘glove shoe‘) with all my (gasping sounds) for all the (no idea if this is undecipherable or ‘maze above kite.’ ”
And the response.
“Sage, when I (gasps, sobs) love the way (gasp) in my (something about a horse) and you are.”
Imagine sitting through this awkward seven-minute vow tennis match then learning their marriage lasted three and a half years.
When you’ve sat through over fifteen ceremonies though, yes, you pine for memorable vows. Amazing, memorable vows. Unfortunately, the only ones you remember are the train wrecks.
It’s the couples’ day though. Not ours. And it’s their choice to rewrite or not rewrite.
Emotional? Hide a tissue box behind the lectern. The cleavage of your wedding gown. Or your pocket. Aspiring actor? Just leave some air for the rest of us when you inhale. Poetic? Sure, put the V in vows.
Remember, it’s your party. You can cry and rewrite those vows if you want to.
Just (please) have someone vet them.