It Wasn't About Me!

They even made a movie about it. “Father of the Bride”. It was a very funny movie too. Funny and scary at the same time. I had no idea.

In early August I received the phone call that every father dreads. Every dad wants to be the “Main Man” in his daughter’s life something like…..forever. Nate, whom my daughter, Kelly, had been dating for two years called and asked for a meeting. Since I am neither deaf, blind nor demented ( yet ), I had a pretty good idea what he wanted to discuss. I had seen that wide-eyed “yearning” look in his eyes when he looked at Kelly. We decided to meet at a local pizza establishment. I like to be load up on carbs, grease and dead animal parts after getting world changing news, so I wanted to get a head start.

Nate gave no indication that he has rehearsed his pitch. He looked me in the eye, told me how he felt about Kelly, and asked for my blessing to marry her. I noticed right off that he had not asked for “permission”. I had tried to spot a weakness in his speech that I could exploit on behalf of the unsuspecting Kelly, who was in eminent danger of spending the rest of her life with another man, but I could find none. Nate didn’t fidget or stare at his napkin and give me an opening. He exuded a confidence that I knew I couldn’t shake. I thought about telling him that the Carter family had a tradition of not consummating a marriage for at least a year, but Nancy seemed to be enjoying this whole conversation so I decided not to push it.
By the time we finished eating, I had resigned myself to the fact that this man would be sleeping with my daughter on a regular basis and that I might as well just make the best of it.

Needless to say, a proposal and acceptance followed soon after the pizza buffet. Both Kelly’s roommates had recently become engaged, which resulted in the decision to proceed immediately with wedding plans. Little did I know how monumental this decision would turn out to be. It saved me months of anguish and frustration.

My friend, Jay, who had recently suffered through two weddings, was a tremendous help to me. I told him what I thought about this and that, and he rapidly and forcefully put everything in perspective.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, you imbecile! It’s not about you. Just shut your mouth and open your wallet”, he told me without the smallest hint of a smile. What a blessing to have such a wise and sensitive friend.

However, in keeping with a long-standing tradition, I ignored Jay’s wise counsel. My first suggestion concerned the food that would be consumed at the reception. Kelly and her mother were discussing a menu that would have depleted the entire fruit and vegetable crop of southern California. I suggested that about fifteen boxes of Little Debbie Treats and a couple of cases of Mountain Dew should do the trick. You would have thought I had just suggested euthanizing little yellow baby chicks. Jay’s words rung in my ears.

Next came the matter of flowers. I pointed out that the wedding would take place in the fall and that no one would be expecting flowers. What a stroke of brilliance, I thought. Didn’t fly. The bridal bouquet alone was going to be $250. I suggested that the elegance of a single rose would provide a striking contrast to Kelly’s brown eyes and that the guests would be dazzled. That didn’t fly either.

The final straw came when I learned that the Maid of Honor’s dress had to match the napkins at the reception, and that my wife, Nancy, was working hard to get her cuticles ready for the wedding. I was clearly out of my league.

So, all you Fathers of the Bride, get over it. It’s not about you or what you think. Logic and practicality have no place in a wedding. But most importantly, I have learned that dancing with your daughter to “My Girl” is a bunch of fun and that son’s-in-law aren’t such a bad thing.

The content of this blog is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or used without consent of the author.