Table Linens
In 286 days, I get to marry the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and I’m sitting here thinking about table linens. I never expected to have strong opinions on such things. It started early in the process, at one of the first venues that we toured. Our guide led us to the balcony so that we could get a clear view of the ballroom. I looked down into a sea of round tables and cringed. I saw white tablecloths with chair covers to match and was downright appalled. The feeling caught me off guard, and I was immediately aware that it was rather silly. Nevertheless, there it was. I may not have been any closer to knowing what I wanted, but I did know that if I saw table linens at my reception, I would (internally) scream.
This pattern has continued over the last few months. I’ve discovered my aversion to uplighting, ice cream bars, and crepe dresses, not to mention a downright fear of the obligatory post-wedding brunch. I will not claim to have ever been a less-than-particular person. But here I am, becoming the thing I wished most to avoid: a silly and dramatic bride. For what?
Maybe it doesn’t show on the outside as much as I feel it. (At least I hope it doesn’t). But I’m sharing it with you now because perhaps you’ve been here before or will be in the future. It’s an odd place to be in, knowing what you don’t want, but not what you do. It’s unsettling to be hyper-aware of the triviality of your concerns but not being able to silence them. I’m preparing to marry the love of my life – how the hell does any of this matter anyway? And, at the end of the day, who are weddings really for? Are receptions repayment to your guests for putting in the effort to come to the ceremony? Are they opportunities to make an impression of extravagance on relatives that the bride and groom only see every ten years? In my opinion, they should be neither. And that, I’ve realized, is why I care so much about the tables, chairs, and everything in-between.
I care because it is a chance to keep a grasp on the real reason we are doing this. We aren’t throwing a party to show off— we are celebrating the start of a beautiful marriage. We aren’t curating our guest list for appearances or out of obligation — we are inviting those closest to us to witness the very first day of our lives as husband and wife, and that is incredibly special. So perhaps I’m not being as silly as I think. Perhaps I just… care. I care that the details reflect who we are. I care that they are unique to us and refuse to let anyone else’s expectations or stale traditions dictate the way we celebrate together. I care that we raise the first toast to our marriage while seated at rectangular tables, simply because we want to.