But before we get into this righteous rant, I guess I probably have some ‘splainin to do. Unless you think I’m just learning about the ins and outs of the Wedding Industrial Complex for sh*ts (I love beans) and giggles (and bean memes), you’ve probably figured out I’m also making an announcement. Yes, this bitch is getting hitched. And no, I’m not pointing at some other bitch as I type “this bitch”; by “this bitch,” I mean me. For those of you who only know me via this blog or my last one this probably seems a bit out-of-the-blue. You probably thought I’d more likely end my 2012 playing dice in a Greek gutter rather than get engaged, but ya know, turns out I’m more boring/normal that you probably thought. Plus, we’re saving Greek gutter dice for the honeymoon.

But enough about how romantic I am and back to this Wedding Industrial Complex, this sector of the economy that sucks money from your wallet faster than a goddamn Dyson. Turns out, we all have four-year-old girls to blame for that, or more accurately, four-year-old girls who grow into adult women with the imagination capacity of four-year-old girls, at least according to this article. For the record, unless you’re Kate Middleton, you will never be a pretty, pretty princess. Instead, you’ll just look like you made Halloween your wedding theme…

princess fail

The sad thing is, I’m learning firsthand that that’s what the wedding industry more or less depends on. The dreams of unimaginative adults. It’s all about unrealistic fantasy. That’s why an otherwise rational person will pay $2,000 (or more) for a cake. A FUCKING CAKE. Or why someone would pay probably upwards of $10,000 to put these in the middle of perfectly innocent, otherwise very functional tables. Poor tables…

centerpiece fail

(Also, isn’t that kind of a big “fuck you” to your guests? Like, don’t you care that, I dunno, they’re able to see something more than the giant alien rose trees you stuck directly in their lines of sight?)

But I digress… As my fiance, who, by the way, is not my cat, but an actual human man (I know you were wondering), and I try to put together a grown-up soiree featuring exactly none of the above, we’ve learned that keeping things simple, adult and on budget is harder than you might think. Like, have you ever been to a bridal shop (even one that might be considered high end, hello Kleinfeld!)? They’re mostly awful. No matter the price point, they all seem to cater to the same childish taste. Big, poofy, lots of taffeta, crystals, sequins, ruffles. You just paid thousands of dollars for your cake, do you really want to look like one too?

Maybe it’s because I never thought about planning a wedding before, but I came into this brave new world of white, porcelain dinnerware, thousand-dollar cakes and holy-shit-there-are-how-many-different-kinds-of-paper knowing as much about it as my cat knows about nuclear physics. I’m just saying, had I read that the average DC wedding costs around $30,000 before we started telling people we were gonna have a wedding, I would’ve pressed the idea of elopement a little more. Imagine the kind of exotic elopement one could have for thirty grand

But alas, here I am. If nothing else, at least I’ll be a helpful fountain of glitter-spewing knowledge by the end of this. Just pay me $10,000 and I can make all your awful dreams come true.