There were times in the past when dating sucked so bad that I thought to myself, “I am just going to marry any old raggedy trainwreck of a woman who is agreeable, just so I don't have to date anymore.” That's right, I was going to settle!
Fortunately, the right woman came along, I realized it and convinced her to marry me. The good news is I don't have to settle after all, the bad news is I have to plan a wedding.
I'm excited for the marriage, just not the wedding, see? Really I'm not too worried because there is really no pressure on me as the groom. Don't get me wrong, I do my part, but if the wedding ends up looking unbeautiful or unglamorous, no one is really looking at me. My friends and family won't show up and say stuff like, “Look at these awful colors and decorations! I don't know what he was thinking.”
It's true, it's true. The bride gets all the credit and/or all the blame. And while the most of the decisions, responsibility and freaking out fall to the bride, the groom has the extremely crucial but oft-overlooked duty of keeping the bride from falling to pieces.
A groom must be steady, sensitive and have a large supply of Kleenex on hand at all times. In these responsibilities he must never falter, and truth be told planning a wedding is a little stressful, even for a groom.
Which brings me to pimples. My acne level always spikes during important events in my life. Stress causes me to break out, and my forehead could serve as a big shiny indicator of my stress level. Thus, the closer we get to the wedding, the more zits show up for the services.
I had always imagined that by the time I was 28 my skin would be really clear, but I had also imagined that by the time I was 28 life would be a lot less complicated. So much for all of that.
I figured I better take care of my growing acne problem before the wedding because at weddings they take approximately 4,000,000 pictures and I didn't want to be extremely pimply in every one of them. I didn't want my grandkids to look at our wedding pictures and say, “Grandpa, what was wrong with your face?” That sounds vain, but, unlike my fiancee, I won't have an army corp of best friends putting makeup on me the day of the wedding.
So I went to the dermatologist and he prescribed me some meds. While I was in there I asked him to look at a mark on my shoulder. He did so and announced that I had a spot of skin cancer and he would gladly cut it out for me.
Before he could start cutting he had to numb the area and pretty soon he was coming at me with a large syringe filled with local anesthetic. Most doctors say some rubbish like, “This might pinch a little,” or “You're going to feel a little 'pressure.'” I love my dermatologist because he told me, “This is going to hurt, and there's just no getting around that.”
And it did hurt. Oh man, did it ever. In comparison, planning a wedding isn't so bad.
Does anyone have any wedding plan tips for me? Groom secrets?