Back when getting married was a period in my life rather than a question mark, I thought weddings were silly—well, mostly wedding receptions.
Weddings themselves were fine. I liked the white dress (even though I did say in high school that I would be fine getting married in jeans, which prompted one of my friends to swear to take me dress shopping), the flowers and jazz seemed neat, and it sounded cool—in theory—to have everyone important from your life there.
I realized however, sitting at a table during my first wedding reception, how awkward the afterparty can be. I was mostly invited because my parents were invited from church connections, but I somehow got shunted off to the kids table. For company, I had my two siblings and other high schoolers from my church with whom I hadn’t exchanged more than a passing word for years due to my aversion to youth group. The food was delicious; the time passed like molasses.
The next few receptions were marginally better. One was between two teachers at my school, and I was one of the three current students invited (the others being my sister and my boyfriend at the time). There were coffee beans and party games on every table—Dutch Blitz, playing cards, the works. I knew everyone at my table this time and didn’t need the games to break the ice. My cousin’s wedding was tiny, hosted at their favorite Rhode Island restaurant, so I only didn’t know their college friends, who mostly kept to their own table. I spent most of my time catching up with the California cousins, sweating bullets, and grabbing every popsicle the restaurant gave us. At my first friend wedding, we were able to stay overnight at the venue in upper New Hampshire, which meant I got to know a few of her college friends a little better. I mostly, however, stuck to the sides of my high school besties, all of us admiring the view of the White Mountains and crying about how our lives were all going to diverge after college graduation.
I understand that weddings are all about the couple, so as an attendee, you just have to suck it up and recognize that you aren’t going to know (or get along with) everyone coming to the wedding. But after these few experiences, I decided that when I was to get married, at my family’s favorite campground, I would forgo the reception all together. People could reserve campsites together and cluster together, getting to catch up without playing the “So how do you know the happy couple?” game. It would be a win-win: I would see all of my people, and they would get to see each other. People never actually get to talk to the couple during weddings anyway.
The only thing that made me change my mind, however, was the last wedding I attended where I was a part of the bridal party. We got up to the venue (upper New Hampshire again—I’m telling you all, these mountains) and had two days to decorate and hang out. My friend had picked people from all different times of her life—high school, college, grad school—and I got the chance to sit down and talk with the people who loved my friend so dearly when she was thousands of miles from me. I got to know her lab partner and learned that they blast whatever music they want in their fancy organic chemistry lab working six days a week; I heard about college shenanigans and more stories about her and her fiancé when they were just starting out.
When everyone else arrived the day of the wedding, all the other college friends and Ph.D candidates and random relatives, it didn’t matter that I didn’t know them and didn’t have time to get to know them—I already had an in. I felt perfectly comfortable dancing with her Cali friends and her scientists and her relatives because I realized they were all here for the same reason as me: to celebrate these two lovely people.
I still think wedding receptions are kind of silly, but now if I ever do get married, I am going to have one—in all its weird and awkward and wonderful glory.
Alex Johnson (‘19) is a virtual computer science teacher and a proud resident of Grand Rapids. When she’s not brainstorming the newest project to inflict on her students, she’s cooking semi-vegetarian food, reading too many romance books, and playing rhythm games.
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Hi Alex,
Thank you for putting into writing what we all feel at receptions – awkwardness and stiltedness but at the same time a genunine connection. It makes me realize the fullness of people’s lives (“eight million stories in the naked city” so to speak) and that I, as a bridesmaid, sister, friend, or plus one, am only a small part of someone’s life. Weddings also show the fact that we are all connected deeply and in interlocking patterns. I appreciate your piece.
Lydia