When our 27-year-old daughter Emma and her fiancé officially decided to get married I quickly jumped into action.
I got on the phone to speak with as many wedding vendors as I could. I scoured locations, I checked and double checked the calendar for suitable wedding dates and I interviewed hundreds of wedding planners.
Hahahahahaha.
Sometimes I kill myself.
No, what I did was say to my wife, “Let me know if you need anything,” grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, went back out on the porch and continued watching football.
I mean, do I have stupid written all over my face?
See, I know a thing or two about weddings. I will have you know I have seen “Father of the Bride” at least three times.
The Steve Martin “Father of the Bride” I mean. I think I have only seen the Spencer Tracy “Father of the Bride” once.
Here’s the thing I took away from both movies: MY OPINION DOES NOT MATTER!!!!
Some of you naïve males out there might be saying, “Oh Mike, surely, you’re exaggerating. You’re her dad you deserve to be a part of the wedding plans.”
To you naïve males out there who are saying that my response is, “You’re not married, are you?”
A month or so ago, Emma’s fiancé tried to offer a suggestion about the wedding. Mind you, my wife and Emma and the wedding planner had already been working on wedding plans for several months.
It did not go well.
A week later, I was at a jewelry store in Joplin. The same store, as it happens, where Emma’s fiancé bought her engagement ring.
While I was in the store one of the nice ladies who works there asked me how the wedding plans were going and I said, “I don’t know.”
The nice lady laughed and then I mentioned that Emma’s fiancé had tried to offer a suggestion about the wedding and she said, (and I swear this is true), “Oh that’s sweet that he thinks his opinion matters.”
Even though I quickly accepted the fact my opinion about the wedding didn’t matter my wife sometimes will set a little trap for me.
Out of the blue, she’ll ask me what I think about a particular wedding detail. When she does, I always say the same thing.
“I don’t care.”
One reason I say, “I don’t care,” is because of that whole, “not having stupid written all over my face” thing.
The other reason I say, “I don’t care” is because…follow me here…I don’t care.
All I need to know is where I need to be, when I need to be there and what I have to wear.
It would be nice to know if there will be beer nearby but that’s not necessarily a deal breaker.
You would think by accepting the fact my opinion about the wedding does not matter I would be saved from having to hear about the wedding details.
You would think.
Look my wife doesn’t have an opinion about the St. Louis Cardinals’ season. Not because she doesn’t think her opinion about the St. Louis Cardinals’ season doesn’t matter but because she doesn’t care about the St. Louis Cardinals’ season.
My point is, because I know my wife doesn’t have an opinion about the St. Louis Cardinals’ season I don’t talk to her much about it.
I know that my wife doesn’t really care about the St. Louis Cardinals’ season, so I try not to bore her about it.
Some of you female people out there are probably asking, “Uh Mike, are you actually comparing Emma’s wedding to the St. Louis Cardinals’ season and are you actually trying to say her wedding plans are boring? Is that what you’re actually saying in an actual column Emma and your wife are actually going to read?”
To some of you female people out there who are actually asking that I can only say, “Oh (bad word) I actually may be in trouble.”
OK, obviously, I’m not comparing Emma’s wedding to the St. Louis Cardinals’ season and I certainly was not suggesting her wedding details are boring.
What I am saying is that my wife talks about the wedding plans a lot. I mean like a lot, lot.
Say there is a break in the baseball game I’m watching. I’ll walk into the kitchen and tell my wife I’m getting a beer and she’ll say, “Oh I’m glad you’re here, I’m thinking about ordering these napkins for the wedding, come look at them and tell me what you think.”
So, I’ll look at the napkins trying to show just the right amount of interest.
Like just enough interest to make it seem as if I care about the napkins but not so much interest that I think my opinion about them matters.
It’s a delicate balance.
Then my wife will start talking about some other wedding plan and she’ll look sort of funny because she’s talking to herself because I left five minutes ago to go back to watching the baseball game.
Not that I’m comparing Emma’s wedding to the St. Louis Cardinals’ season.
If that’s what you’re thinking.