29 years. 29 years of life and thus far I’ve not wasted one second of it thinking about what kind of centerpieces ought to go on tables.* So why should I start now?

Oh. Oh that’s right, I’m getting married. Apparently getting married induces mind-searing self-doubt, and everything you ever knew, loved, and believed is erased and replaced with absolute unwavering faith in what the (industry) leaders say. And if the leaders say think about table centerpieces, then you think about table centerpieces.

It’s kind of like being inducted into a cult.

Yes. Anyway. Tables. I’ve been considering what will go on them for the wedding. We are going to have some flowers, sure. In fact, in the coming months we’re even going to collect various vases for the flowers. Mismatched ones, because we’re** wannabe hipsters like that. And I’m pretty sure we’re going to have tablecloths, too, so that’s cool. But then I start to wonder if flowers in vases on tablecloths are good enough for our wedding. And then I cruise by some “inspiration” blog and see centerpieces featuring meticulously arranged stacks of antique books and handmade paper fans alongside of light chain diodes in the shape of antlers and sunflowers the couple grew themselves floating in a water-filled handblown glass bowl, or some such insanity, and I’m like: Oh. Guess flowers alone definitely aren’t good enough.

Sure, I could just put my foot down. Say whatever, flowers alone are good enough, and move on and be happy. Maybe — maybe — I could even frolic a little. But then I begin to think that I do want more than just flowers on the tables, and that’s where things get mystifying. Because that sounds exactly like something the wedding industry would tell me to want.

Let’s consider the term “wedding industry” for a second. It used to be that the wedding industry meant traditional, and tradition set the standards. And then the indie/DIY movement came along and said, we are going to punch your standards in the eye. And they did! And many people cheered and clapped. But then that indie/DIY movement became its own set of standards, replete with all the trends and frippery that goes along with that. It doesn’t matter if it’s the “alternative” option if the alternative option is making you feel like your stuff is shit in comparison.

What’s my point? I don’t know. I’m still kind of working this out in my head. Trying to figure out why I have such an adverse, snarky reaction to the wedding world of late. I think a lot of it is about coming to grips with the word bride, because bride is such a loaded word in the same way that wife is such a loaded word. Those words define who we are as individuals, but they also become roles we play for others. Hence, I don’t trust the wedding industry, even the indie/DIY faction, because I suspect that playing along with them will make me fall into some kind of bride trap where I suddenly, desperately care about things that don’t actually matter in the scope of life. And afterwards, I will smack my forehead and say, I WAS SO DUMB FOR CARING ABOUT CENTERPIECES. The consequences of which being: If I begin to show the slightest interest in centerpieces, I don’t trust my intentions. Who are you? Who are you listening to? Has the wedding industry come calling again?

You know, this wasn’t meant to be some big serious deal. I came here to write a funny post about centerpieces and it somehow turned into a rambling analysis of self versus other. My apologies. Friday posts are supposed to be light and fluffy, right? Save the drama for your mama, or better yet, Mondays, when we’re all depressed about going back to work anyway.

The bright spot in this mess of a post: I figured out for sure that I want something more than just flowers on the damn tables. Now to just figure out what that is.

It is not going to involve handmade paper fans, that’s for damn sure.

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* OK. There was that one time last year I was setting the table for Thanksgiving dinner and thought, it would look nicer if something was on here, so I covered the table with a bed sheet and threw some candesticks in the middle, but that seems like less of a centerpiece and more of a desperate cry for help. At least the bed sheet was clean.

** And by we I mean I.