Months leading into the wedding, my Wife (at the time, my fiancee) gave me weekly reminders that I’m only allowed two drinks during the entire wedding night. Within me I was laughing aloud. Just two drinks? Is she kidding? But on the outside I didn’t reveal my opposition; I submitted like the tamed dog I’d been groomed into, “Yes, ma’am. Only two drinks.”
This drink limit obviously didn’t last. I promised myself not to drink until the first dance was completed because after taking lessons with a professional choreographer it would’ve been a complete waste of money to destroy that moment my Wife and I practiced for.
When a woman sets a drink limit on you, the key to drinking endlessly throughout the night is ordering the same drink every time. You also have to make sure that the level of your glass is always lower each time the woman sees you. If she notices the glass has a higher volume of alcohol next time around, she’ll know you got another drink. My advice is to do what I did: The first time the Wife saw me with a drink in my hand I was holding a glass of Stella Artois, which was about 80% full. After parting from conversation with her, I drifted to the men’s bathroom, chugged the entire glass, got out and went to the bartender to order another Stella while she wasn’t looking. My new Stella was filled to the brim. The last time my wife saw me, the glass was 80% full, so I immediately drank so that my new glass of Stella was 70% full. This gives off the illusion that I was gradually drinking my first Stella. In reality, at this point I have already consumed one full drink, and 30% of another, but the next time I saw the Wife she thought I was still on the first drink.
You don’t need to drink responsibly as long as you can avoid confrontation.
Barely a half hour removed from the ceremony guests are already pressing the baby question. Right now I just got married and want to enjoy it for a few hours. I can’t tell you exactly when I’ll be ready for a baby, but I promise you it will come nine months after I decide not to pull out. And when the baby pops out, you will be one of the first I text to share the news. Heck, if it’s a boy, you’ll even to be invited to his bris, which I will not be attending because I’m not a fan of staring at medical procedures “head-on” and fainting.
From former friends I got a few renditions of, “Hey, why wasn’t I invited to your wedding?”
I responded, “Because I didn’t send you an invitation.”
Seriously, if I haven’t been friends with you in so many years, what makes you think you’ll be invited? This isn’t some high school reunion that everyone’s invited to. My family has to pay for this shit. $300 per plate. I had a list of 20 people I could invite, not including their significant others.
Why weren’t you invited to my wedding? You happened to be number 11,206 on the bubble list. Sorry.
About half of my personal wedding list asked me for the definition of “Black Tie”. My friends are nearly 30-years-old and they don’t know what to wear for a Black Tie event? Even more ridiculous is the fact that my friends preferred to ask me this question rather than Google.
For those without common sense, a Black Tie event basically means that men should dress up like James Bond at a casino. And maybe I should’ve said that on the invitation. “Join Courtney and Ariel on their Wedding Day. This is a James Bond event so please dress accordingly.”
Very few friends had bowties, which is the preferred and expected Black-Tie tie. And forget about Bowtie or regular tie, I think my friends wore more non-black ties than black ties. It was interesting, comical, insulting, and confusing to see my friends in their red, blue, pink, and dark green ties. Then to have the bride’s side blame me for everything, “Did you not tell your friends that this was a Black Tie event?”
I was thinking, “You’re the one who sent out the invitation. You should have said it was a James Bond event and they would’ve understood,” but because I just took their daughter from them, I sealed my lips and took the blame like a man.
Speaking of lips. Later that night, like Bond, I seduced my woman and gave her an epic sexual experience. That night I found out for the first time that my wife snores during orgasm.
This came as a shock because for the previous year all these friends were trying to avoid me. I appreciated the gesture, but ultimately it was the alcohol making them act so cordially. I knew that once I returned from my honeymoon they’d defer to the cycle of finding excuses how not to hang out with me. Fortunately I also have an excuse for you assholes in return. I will never have to hang out with you again because I have the ultimate trump card, “Sorry, the wife isn’t feeling well.”
Why are you congratulating her? You should be consoling her. My wife did not win anything on this day. She lost. She has to deal with ME for the rest of her life. It took my mother 28 years to get rid of me. Now that the torch of despair was passed down to the innocent wife of mine, it’s my mother we should be raising a glass to.
I just want to ask these people one thing: If you asked Santa Claus or Santa Moses for a watch this holiday season, and then he brought you baby wipes instead, how would you feel? You’d probably shit yourself. In which case, the baby wipes would come in handy. But that’s not what you asked for. You wanted a watch. Secondly, if the wedding registry were up to me, I would get every video game system ever created, and build the ultimate man cave. Then I’d probably lose my wife, all the while losing lives in the unbeatable and classic Moon Patrol (1982) for Atari.
10 a.m. on the day of my wedding I received two texts from people asking if they can bring a friend along. Let me ask you: if you show up to the opera house with two tickets and you have four people with you, how many do you think will be allowed in?
Part of me feels my wedding was like a collegiate course for my friends. They received first-hand experience on the etiquette of a formal event. Black Tie 101, taught by BostonJew – a one-time only course.
To make it clear, and so my wife doesn’t make me sleep on the couch tonight, I must say that the wedding day, hands down, was the best time of my life. And because I love you guys and my wife so much, here’s some insight on the coined-term “hands down.” A term I used to hate until reading that link.
Rest in peace non-black ties at formal events and the greatest game I could never beat.