Why I Hate Weddings

In a writer’s life it can become easy to not write daily. We can’t let it become a chore either. It’s supposed to be fun. For our creative selves it’s important to nurture that side of our core. It’s a strength in many ways. It fuels several aspects of our being. That’s why I’ve created this weekly writing prompt.

This week’s writing prompt is “WHY I HATE WEDDINGS.”

I’ll share what I wrote first to help get you started. Check it out below!

 I want to hear from you too. Leave your own writing prompt samples in the comments below.  If you do I’ll put your name in the hat for each prompt you share. One lucky person will be picked at the end of the month and I’ll read the first ten pages of their manuscript and provide feedback.

This bride is already punching someone in the throat.

This bride is already punching someone in the throat.

The thought of a traditional wedding in a church or in a hall suffocates me. I had no ‘little girl fantasy’ of wearing a white, princess dress, of writing my own vows to my husband to be, or inviting my boss and their family of brats to feast on a trough of shrimp and sparkling wine.

Nor do I want to do the planning associated with booking a Huey Lewis and The News cover band, picking linens and flowers, or having to arrange seating. Even if someone had offered me a wedding planner at no charge I’d decline. Because I’m not picking up the phone after a long week when I could be picking up a bottle of wine. The latter is way more important.

Not allowing the proper life flow of wine into my hand isn’t the only reason why I hate weddings, it’s just the start. Once, I had to sit through a themed wedding. The bride and groom chose Broadway, and when she came down the long, red stairs, The Phantom of the Opera blared in tandem with the fog of a smoke machine. There was so much smoke she couldn’t find her husband nor could I see my own hand holding my wine glass.

Let’s talk about seating. If you’re reading this and you’re planning a wedding, give some consideration to how well you know the couples you’re inviting. I once had to sit next to a couple that fought so much that they wound up breaking it off by dessert, right over the miniature vegan cupcakes. (If I had to attend that wedding again, I’d take the break up over the cupcakes.)

Even beyond the crappy miniature wedding deserts, there’s always one drunk family member. A relative of mine was so hammered at my sister’s wedding that during the toast they were crawling around the dance floor on all fours. And why was I the only one watching? Because when you hate weddings as much as me you take note of all these little things that can make the wedding halfway decent—like the relative in a suit on their hands and knees in the middle of a toast.

Each invite to a wedding sends shivers up my salty spine. I have to spend more money I don’t have on a seltzer maker that someone will wind up with after the divorce. A seltzer make I won’t even be able to experience. Or I have to abide by some made up bride rules like: you must wear a purple dress with one polka dot at the center of the stomach and the only company that makes them is in Scotland. And you can only fly there. And they only accept travelers checks made out of stone.

Then there’s the one glimmer of hope at every wedding, the part when an ex shows up and you look better than his girlfriend. However, this never happened to me. My exes always showed up with a girlfriend hotter than me, which yes, I know sounds self-deprecating, but let’s face it, I’m a writer. I sit allot and eat bacon.

And then, finally, there’s the guilt. Weddings are notorious for their arrow like ability to shed guilt on the following: 1) that gift I bought wasn’t expensive enough, 2) I didn’t buy the effing purple dress from Scotland and 3) I don’t appreciate the 80 pounds of shrimp frozen together in the shape of an iceberg that looks like it could’ve sunk the titanic. Even the bride notices my disillusionment and sends a slanted eye from across the rib eye. Next time I rent a helicopter for an emergency evacuation.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bitter. I’m just saying maybe we need to rethink how weddings are managed. Shouldn’t they be an opportunity to share love and happiness with family and friends? Let’s just say ‘no’ to seltzer makers, to vegan cupcakes, to guilt, and to smoke machines. Let’s get hammered and crawl around on all fours in front of our exes. Let’s laugh more. Let’s love more. I don’t need rules or a special purple dress to do these things. Let’s keep it real, or just keep the invitation, really.



 So, your turn. Why do you hate weddings? What pisses you off about the food, the in-laws, the exes? What made you mad, sad and effing angry? Tell me here. I want to know why weddings make your skin crawl.

And, if you like this blog, stay in the know. I have all sorts of prompts for your undamnded soul. If you post something I like, I might invite you to write a guest blog. So be sure to click to SIGN UP to get a piece of the action.