Why Planning A Wedding Is A Cruel Fate That Should Only Be Reserved As Torture In The Ninth Circle of Hell

I Want To Get Married

I want to get married.  I do.  To Rafael Ascencio.

The idea that I found anyone who wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and that that person happens to be someone with whom I want to spend the rest of my life, and that the state in which we live made gay marriage legal are three deeply unlikely events that have colluded to make me want to get married.  I never thought I'd want to get married.  But now I do.  And when you want to get married, you have to plan a wedding.

Planning The Wedding

My sister looked at me in undisguised horror when I told her I was going to have a wedding party (she had her best friend standing up at the ceremony with her, and that was it).  In fact, when she and her now-husband were getting serious, she informed him in no uncertain terms that she did not want to be proposed to.  She thought it was demeaning.  If/when they wanted to talk about marriage, they would do it in a civilized, equitable way.  The incredibly talented Leslie Kritzer and Vadim Feichtner had a small ceremony a few weeks ago and invited everyone to meet them at a bar in midtown after, where there were toasts and libations and some of the most delicious cake I've ever eaten in my life.  The event was beautiful and it captured them in all of their glory.

I proposed to Rafael on May 24, 2012, on one knee, with a ring.  We're having a wedding party of our nearest and dearest, that includes my brother (who also didn't have a wedding party) and my sister (who seemed flattered, confused and disturbed when I asked her to be in mine).  There are many conventions of a traditional wedding we're not following, but basically, we've signed up for the kit and caboodle.  The irony is not lost on me: gays rush to the conventions of wedding and institution of marriage that our straight brothers and sisters eschew as old-fashioned and antiquated.  When you've had to fight for something, you appreciate it differently.

I can't wait for my wedding.  But planning it has been unadulterated hell.

Why Planning A Wedding Is A Cruel Fate That Should Only Be Reserved As Torture In The Ninth Circle of Hell

To be fair, I don't think Rafael would describe the experience of planning a wedding in any way equivalent to getting your wisdom teeth pulled out.  But in the same way that my dentist didn't really explain to me that getting my wisdom teeth pulled would involve a big, sweaty Iranian dentist yanking on them with a wrench, no one really told me what the experience of wedding-planning would be like.  Or maybe they did, and I just didn't believe them.  I'm a theater director, after all.  I'm used to putting on shows.  How could this be so different?

Most Wedding Vendors Are Hateful People Who Try To Rob You

If a vendor is primarily in the wedding industry (a wedding photographer, for example, as opposed to just a photographer, or a wedding planner as opposed to say, an events planner), chances are they want to rob you.  They want to use your insecurities, fragility and vulnerability to charge you at least twice as what their service would go for in any other context. 

 Delphi Harrinton, the gorgeous actress whose equally beautiful husband Norm just passed away last week, described to me how people in the death industry tried to take advantage of her, and I couldn't help but think of the local Connecticut photographer whose starting price to shoot my wedding was more than I had been paid for my last directing job.  Now, I know it's a lot of work, and there's overhead, and lots of other expenses.  But still.  It takes me a month to a direct a play.  It would take this photographer one day to shoot my wedding.  And not one full day, either, because her starting package was only an eight-hour period.

One of the best pieces of advices that I got about wedding planning that, whenever possible, don't tell the vendor that you're contracting their service for a wedding.  The guy who runs the BBQ joint down the street in Waterford has no idea that the two lambs I want smoked on May 26th are for a wedding.  As far as he's concerned, they're just for an event at the O'Neill.  Female friends have performed similar experiments - hairdressers and florists are notorious for the "bridal special," which as far as I can tell, just means +50% cost.

Part of why robbing brides and grooms is so easy is because most of us have never been married before.  Think about how much more you knew about buying a car or apartment the second time you did it (I, of course, live in Manhattan so I don't know anything about either of those things).  Because most people only have one huge wedding in their life, our newbie status makes us vulnerable.

Money Money Money

Rafael told me it would be tacky for me to discuss how much we're spending on our wedding.  I told him that I'm tacky all the time.  He looked at me with a mixture of pity and sadness in his eyes, so I've decided not to reveal how much money our parents are spending on our wedding (and yes, our parents are paying for it because there's no way we'd be able to).  Let me put it like this - it's half of what some non-rich friends of mine spent on their wedding.  It's more than the budget of some off-off Broadway shows I've directed.  And it's certainly more money than I will ever spend in a single day.  The idea that I'm spending this much money on my wedding makes me re-examine my priorities in a fundamental way

Last month, I bought a Calvin Klein jacket for $100.  It was at an outlet store, and had been marked down from $350.  It's actually, three jackets in one - a warm, puffy snug thing that can be worn on its own, a water-proof shell that can also be worn on its own, and finally it serves as a heavy winter-jacket when the two pieces fit into each other.  My only rain jacket was a trench coat (Burberry, natch) that my uncle had given me a decade ago, which is still awesome, but can't be worn in any casual setting unless I want to look like a flasher.  My old winter jacket was easily twenty years old.  I really needed a new jacket, and this one was a steal.  And yet, my hand still trembled as I presented the credit card to the cashier.

I hate spending money.  And the idea that I'm spending this much on my wedding sickens me .  And the fact that it's still not even nearly enough for me to to throw the kind of bash that I want sickens me even more.

The Crux Of It

And this is really the crux of it - the reason that planning weddings are such hell.  We are forced to compromise every day of our life.  If you're a theater director, as I am, you're sometimes even forced to compromise two or three times a day, which is much more than I think can reasonably be expected of anyone.  And there's this myth that on our Special Day (it will be Special regardless of how much mula you fork out), the most Important Day Of Your Life (I find the idea that there is a "most important day of anyone's life" totally ridiculous, and even more so if that day is your wedding) you should have everything exactly the way you want it.    

But as anyone who has gotten married can tell you, it's not going to be like that.  Wedding vendors want you to believe this lie, so they can highway rob you sans the highway.  And if you buy into it, all you're doing is playing into their nefarious, exploitative, evil hands.

Don't do it.  Pretend you're a theater director.  Compromise in the good way.  And like in great theater, the limitations will free you, leading you to imaginative and beautiful and unique solutions that a bottomless well of money could never offer.

Who To Invite To Your Wedding

The Guest List

As someone who thrives in situations of great discomfort, I thought I'd tackle the often-thorny issue of who to invite to your wedding.  I imagine this is difficult for every would-be groom and groom (or bride and bride, or groom and bride, as the case may be) but I think this is especially tricky for us theater people, who have so many more friends, colleagues, peers and associates than normal people with normal jobs.  The following is the criteria of guidelines that Rafael and I created when figuring all this out.

The Magic Number

The first thing you need to figure out is how many people you want at your wedding.  If I were writing a wedding-advice book, I'd write something diplomatic here, like "there are different size weddings for different people and you and your sig other should figure out what kind of wedding you want." But I think that's ridiculous. This is what my research revealed: most people with weddings of more than 150 were unhappy.  That's the truth of it.  Everyone I asked, and I asked many people, told me that 125 is the number to shoot for.  Let me also point out that if you're planning on serving a meal at your wedding, which has become the norm, it's basically impossible to do that for less than 200/head unless you're doing the reception at a restaurant, so you do the math: that's already 25K right there.  The 125 number also makes sense to me because, like the host of any good party, you're going to want to spend a few minutes with each guest and at a certain point, that becomes impossible.

The Must-Haves

Certain people are must-haves, and I suggest you start there: family members, friends you've known forever without whom you couldn't imagine the thing.  Close your eyes and think about whose absence would cause you actual pain.  Start by making a list of those people.  (Also, close your eyes and imagine whose presence would cause you actual pain.  Make a list and make sure none of those people are invited). 

Pay To Play

Next, if your parents are paying for the event, ask them if there's anyone they'd like to invite.  It's the decent thing to do.   And you might even be pleasantly surprised - our next door neighbors growing up and the parents of a dear childhood friend of mine were on my parents' list, and they're both couples that I'd be delighted to have in attendance.

Now, you've got a list of everybody who has to be invited.  This is where it gets tricky.

The Hard Part

Now, you and your fiance should make a list of everyone they'd like to have there.  Anyone at all.  This could be a long list, much longer than the number of people that can actually be accommodated by the wedding.  Put anybody you'd like on that list - let it be whimsical. Then the two of you should work your way through the two lists.  It's important to do this together, because some of the questions are not about the relationship you (singular) have with an individual, but rather about the relationship that you (plural) have - after all, this is about you (plural), not you (singular).  (If English had a second person plural, like every other language, we'd all be saved many parenthesis).

Here are the questions Rafael and I asked ourselves:

Do we both have a relationship to the individual?

Obviously, it helps if the someone is someone to whom we're both connected.  

Another question, which sounds stupid in its simplicity, is: have you met the person?  A childhood friend of Rafael's was passing through New York yesterday, and we all made a point of re-arranging our schedules so that we could have lunch because I wanted to spend time with someone who was going to be at my wedding.  In my ideal world, I wouldn't meet anyone new at my wedding, but knowing that's somewhat inevitable, Rafa and I are doing the best we can to meet all the people who've slipped through the cracks. 

Have we spent one-on-one time with the individual?

As someone for whom one-on-one interactions are the source of major anxiety, this point helps me incredibly.  

Have we been to their home?/Have we had them over to our home?

A picture of our living room.  Doesn't it look cozy?

Someone mentioned this criterion to me in passing, and I've found it to be incredibly helpful in the murky waters of theater friend/colleague/associate.  Hosting someone, or being hosted by them, is an incredibly intimate act, especially in NYC where we go out all the time but rarely stay in.


What are your actual feelings about the person?

It was helpful for me to hear, from Rafael, about which of my friends he felt made him feel most welcomed into their lives, and around whom he felt most comfortable.  I appreciated being able to share with him the same. 

Also - do you like the person?  Again, I know this sounds stupid, but you shouldn't invite someone you don't like to your wedding.  That would be weird.  

How long have you known the person/how long are you planning on knowing the person?

This is a key one to me, and oddly revealing: I'm inviting more people from high school than I am from college, something I would've never predicted at any point in my life.  Inviting someone just because you've known them a long time or you went to their wedding ten years ago is a terrible idea.  But inviting someone who has always been in your life and suspect will always be in your life is a great idea.  Do that.

Notable Sub-Categories:

1)  Children

Rafael and I decided against inviting children.  I tell people "We wish we could, but we just can't afford the extra head count," and there is truth in that, but also, I don't want kids there.  When you're getting married at our age, everybody's got kids, and I don't want a crying baby ruining my ceremony or my reception becoming all about little Bobby's finicky eating ways and would the caterer mind preparing a portion of the salad that doesn't have nuts or cheese but does have extra dressing on the side?  Screw you, little Bobby.  This is my day, not yours.

Rafael and his cousin Adrianna's daughter, whom we plan on exploiting for her adorability as a flower girl. 

Exception: Rafael and I are allowing the nephews, god-children (we each have one) and another kid or two whose cuteness we're planning on exploiting in the ceremony as flower-girls or ring-bearers.  Those kids are working for their place and I feel fine about that.

2)  The Exes

Don't go there.  I just can't imagine it's worth it.

Exception: Linsay Firman, my last ex-girlfriend, the mother of my god-daughter, is someone who made my must-have list.  Being on the must-have list trumps the ex- thing.

3)  People Getting Married Around The Same Time You Are

Vadim and Leslie!

I've noticed this wonderful thing - I've gotten closer to friends getting married within a year of me and Rafael (speaking of which - major shout-out to Vadim Feichtner and Leslie Kritzer who tie the knot tonight - Vadim and Leslie arranged one of mine and Rafael's most beautiful nights, and I'm so happy that two such beautiful and talented people found each other).

It's like being on the same hall freshman year.  Invite those people.  It's fun.

4)  +1

If a guest is dating someone when we came up with our invite list, Rafael and I decided that they should be allowed to bring that someone, even if we hadn't even met them (I think there's only one of those, and we're planning on remedying that before the big day).

If, however, you've just started dating someone, especially someone we haven't met, or you just want to bring a +1 for the hell of it, no can do.  Each person costs hundreds of dollars, and more importantly, the idea that your +1 is taking the place of a friend or colleague that I'd like to invite but can't because we're short on spaces is just crazy to me.  I've gone to many weddings by myself in my single years.  It's fine.  Make friends.  My friends are, after all, the coolest people in the world.  Or get drunk and threaten someone.  That's fun, too. 

5)  Those Special Someones  

For all the blogspace I've dedicated to writing about the logical criteria of whom you should invite to your wedding, here's the truth of it, or at least, the truth of it for me (which is the same thing in this blog).  A handful of people whom do not fit into any of the criteria were invited anyway.

As I try to articulate why these people are important to me, I can't quite, except to say that at different times in my life, they have been there for me in unexpected ways, above and beyond, saved from something or myself, given me an extraordinary opportunity, or restored my faith when it was gone.  Those people go on the list. 

Now What?

Now look at the amount of people you want to invite, and compare that with the amount of people you can invite.  Each wedding book has a different equation about how to deal with this, but the basic wisdom is to invite 10 percent more than you actually accommodate, planning that some people will have closing nights or puking children or other obstacles that will prevent them from attending.

Distribution is also important, here.  Because I'm in a deeply social industry and desperate for approval in a way that Rafael is not, he has agreed to let the amount of "my" people outnumber "his" people.  This also means, however, that if we get to invite more people to our wedding, I'm going to insist that those slots go to Rafael, because I don't want the proportion to get ludicrous.  I'm not marrying myself, after all (that's illegal in most states).  I'm marrying Rafael, and I'd like the parties present to be as equal as possible.  

But There Are People I Want To Invite But Can't!

Tell me about it, kid.  If it's any consolation, that's exactly what casting a play is like.  Especially when you live in a city whose unsung resource is its rich casting pool.   

This, like trying to figure out the "right" number of people to invite to your wedding, is impossible.

Life is hard.  In my ideal world, everybody I'd want to have at my wedding would be at my wedding.  That means, however, that we'd have over 300 people at our wedding.  That means our wedding would have too many people.  That means I wouldn't be in my ideal world any more.   You see the problem?

You see the problem?  

I think one of the impetuses for this post was a desire to exorcise my feelings of guilt and anxiety about having so many people whom I want at my wedding and not being able to invite them.  And I remember what it's like to not be invited to a wedding for which I was expecting an invitation, and the hurt that causes (the party in question in that incident was someone I'd help move apartments three times, back in our early 20s, when you were allowed to ask your friends to help you move.  When I wasn't invited to that wedding, I remember thinking that my lower back had really been taken advantage of).

Dear Joss Whedon: I love you.

You have to trust that the people who love you understand that loving you and being loved by you is different than being invited to the wedding, and not mutually exclusive.  Some of them might even reach out to you, as some have to me, which I think is okay as long as it's done in a non-confrontational, calm manner.  For example, I have some cousins in Oregon whose son is graduating from Wesleyan the day we're getting married - they asked in a very kind email if he and their other children who'll be out here can attend, and we agreed to check in closer to the dates and see how the RSVPs go.  Of course, Joss Whedon is the speaker at Wesleyan's graduation this year (he's an alum), so should I be absent from my own wedding, you'll know where I am.

The Take-Away

Anyone's who's put on a play knows that making a choice means eliminating hundreds of others, and planning a wedding is no different.  If you have a swing band that means you can't also have a Lady Gaga impersonator and a sixteen-piece band flown in from LA, as the older couple from the midwest sitting next to me and Rafael at dinner a few weeks ago did when their daughter got married (I can't make this stuff up).

The guest list is the same way - you're simply not going to be able to have everyone there whom you'd like, nor everyone who'd like to be there.  The important thing, in some way, is that it doesn't really matter.  Your wedding might be the last time, or the first time, or the only you ever see some of your guests.  In a few years, Rafael and I might wish we had invited more people from my gay soccer team, or one of the plays I've been developing with one of the many playwrights whom I love could get picked up and after the trenches of rehearsal we'll become bffs and I'll regret not having invited him/her to my wedding.  And who cares?  Life goes on.  It might be the most important day of your life, but it's just one day.