 "You Want the Groom's Cake Shaped Like a WHAT?" Nancy H. Rosenberg Read an Excerpt When my fiancee and I were planning our wedding, he only asked for two things: "maps in the wedding invitations and a groom's cake shaped like a football." My mother and I promptly nixed his suggestions, pointing out to him all the reasons why his ideas were terrible. I've regretted it ever since. Far be it from my betrothed to hold these things against me. In the years since he has only indirectly alluded to the slight, referring obliquely to the time when my family and I "made him feel socially inept and inadequate." He refused to let the map thing die, so we finally settled on a compromise: he could put maps in the invitations that went to people he was inviting. The invitations that went to my family and friends were to remain pristine and elegant, without the tacky pragmatism of directions or maps. He has magnificently refrained from taunting us about the fact that half the people my family invited got lost on the way to the church, while all the people on his list made it right on time, "thanks to the terrific map!" And, to his credit, the actual maps were quite tastefully rendered, simple black lines printed on beautiful antique white stock. The cake was another story. While I had visions of double-Dutch frosting swirled around cascading, chocolate-covered strawberries, his request was simple: chocolate, vanilla, pumpkin pie--the flavor didn't matter to him, just so long as the confection was shaped like the aforementioned football. Why, why was he determined to ruin My Big Day? Why couldn't he see that while he and his friends would be mildly amused, my family would be nothing short of appalled? My grandfather pulled him aside one evening and tried to help. "Son," he said, "you need to realize one thing. My daughter and granddaughter have had this thing planned for years. They've already decided on the dress, flowers, music, cake and a million other details. The only element they didn't have nailed down was you." Well, the social disgrace of Shocking Football Cake that I feared was thwarted. He zipped his lip and didn't say another word, and the double-Dutch strawberry number was ordered, by a bride-to-be flush with victory and her triumphant mother. The victory was a hollow one. The wedding went without a hitch, but it was punctuated by one of the most romantic spontaneous moments I've ever seen: when the preacher asked my soon-to-be husband, "Do you take this woman, promise to love, cherish…" yada yada yada, his response was a hearty, bellowing "I DO!" that shook the rafters. He had one line in this whole deal, and he pulled it off with aplomb and panache. He looked like a prince, tall and smiling, and there at the alter he made me feel like a queen. Everyone was slightly startled, but they laughed, and the preacher stopped long enough to comment, "I really like that!" We left the church and went straight to the reception hall, where we were greeted by--you guessed it--the cake. On the heels of the most romantic thing I'd ever witnessed there stood a monument to my callous disregard of this wonderful man's simple wish, a cake in a fanciful design. I was ashamed and embarrassed. He's never brought it up in an angry moment; it was a small detail in an otherwise beautiful wedding, and he's much too big of a person to hold a cake against a girl. But now and then he'll wisecrack, and I'm reminded of the regret I felt. Learning to share is never easy--ask any four-year-old. And asking a women to share in the decisionmaking of "her wedding" is monumental, at least in her eyes. But I learned a valuable lesson on my wedding day: invitations, cakes--the details that seem so important at the time soon coalesce and dissolve into a fuzzy recollection of the day you vowed to love each other forever. Will the two of you remember it as The Bride's Day, or will it be Your Day Together? The details make all the difference. Excerpt When my fiancée and I were planning our wedding, he only asked for two things: "maps in the wedding invitations and a groom's cake shaped like a football." My mother and I promptly nixed his suggestions, pointing out to him all the reasons why his ideas were terrible. I've regretted it ever since. |
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