Mr. Y.: “Are you even married?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Mr. Y: “I said: ARE. YOU. EVEN.  MARRIED.?”

Me: “Mr. Y, I don’t need to be married to explain what has happened with respect to the credit card you and your wife share.  Based on …”

Mr. Y: “Don’t give me any of that!  If you’re not married, you can’t really understand what goes on between a man and a woman!”

Me: “Well, I don’t need to be married to say that based on what you’ve both told me and looking at your records, the paper trail shows that the so-called missing money has been deposited into your account Mr. Y.  You know the account, Mr. Y.  It would be the one that is solely in your name.”

And with that Mr. Y cursed his wife and stormed out of my office leaving her behind.  Perhaps dazed by what transpired Mrs. Y proceeded to take up her husband’s earlier line of questioning.

Mrs.Y:. “So, Mantha, are you married?  I imagine that you must be getting up there.  You should really think about finding a husband.”

Me: “And exactly what sort of husband would you suggest?”

I love watching shows about weddings.  If you watch carefully these shows are more than stories about finding the right dress,  They are actually stories of family dynamics and an exploration into the minds of potential brides and those around them.  These shows are a bit like ‘Criminal Minds’ as you delve into the motivation behind each character’s behaviour.

Sometimes the motivation is simpler to detect than others.  For instance, there was the bride-to-be who stupidly (yes, I am making a judgment here) brought her financé’s ex-girlfriend to her dress selection.  No need to waste time examining why the ex- found fault with every dress the bride chose.

Then you have the mother’s of the bride who wants her little girl (who I might add is around my age – late thirties) to look like a princess.  If my two cents are worth anything, perhaps a regal look would be more appropriate and in keeping with the reality of the bride’s age. But, who am I to comment?!  After all, I’m not married …

And here is my favourite, the friend who is overly enthusiastic about every dress the bride-to-be models for her cohorts. This enthusiasm isn’t the regular kind inspired to keep the bride’s spirits up while still encouraging her to find the PERFECT dress.  Little Mrs. Enthusiasm’s motivation is a bit more sinister.

Nearly every comment from this woman’s mouth (I think we’ll call her Mrs. E.) starts with, “when I …,” the sentence is then completed with something related to her wedding.  This woman is THE expert on all things wedding related.

Bride-to-Be: “I’m not sure if I like the satin as much as the lace…”

Mrs. E.: “When I got married I thought it would matter. But, really you can’t tell what the fabric is in the pictures.”

Mrs. E is also a health and safety expert too.

Bride-to-Be: “I think I should ask them to take a little off the bottom of the dress. I’m afraid I might trip!”

Mrs. E: “Why bother?  When I got married people tripped over my dress all night.  The same is going to happen to you at some point during the evening.”

And let us not forget that Mrs. E is above all things a fashion designer/stylist/expert all rolled into one.

Bride-to-Be: “Mom, I think I should try on the second dress again just to be sure…” Before Mom can give her answer, Mrs. E interrupts again, “… honey, at the end of the day it’s just a dress!”

Were it possible to rewind the video tape of Mrs. E’s wedding dress search we would see that her wedding dress was not ‘just a dress’.  The tape would show Mrs. E (previously known as Miss E) traipsing from store to store with family, friend and now foes (the first two are bound to fall into the last category by the 8th bridal dress store) trailing begrudgingly behind her.

Miss E would tell the sales assistants and her entourage repeatedly that her gown had to be the best ever!  Miss E would then scrutinize each and every feature of the dress from the placement of individual crystals to the precise length the train.  Her poor friends would be forced to sit through this performance for each of the approximately twenty dresses she would try on in at least 11 bridal stores.  Yet, poor Miss E would still find it a challenge to find a dress that could meet her exacting standards.  Too bad these standards weren’t applied to the groom.

 

Miss E’s main criterion in choosing her future husband was that she was approaching thirty.  All her future husband needed to have were a decent job, the ability to buy her a nice ring, be relatively attractive and most importantly, willing to take her down the aisle before her thirty-first birthday.

Well, she found all that and in time too. It was unfortunate, however, that on the wedding day, a few hours into the reception, Miss E had a rude awakening.

Her hubby didn’t dance with her.  He also never complimented her dress.  And worst of all he actually ruined her dress when he shoved a piece of wedding cake in her face (instead of feeding it to her tenderly as a sign of how he intended to treat her throughout their married life) and it smeared down the front of her gown (it was a lemon cake with raspberry filling).  Oh, did I forget to mention he was also visibly drunk during the actual wedding ceremony?

I won’t go into further detail about Miss E – sorry, Mrs. E.’s – wedding day and life.  I am pretty sure Mrs. Y’s story began much the same way.  There isn’t much more I can say about either of these women except to conclude it is true that misery does love company.

I will tell you that if I ever marry I will be over forty.  I will be a mature and elegant bride.  However, my age will not be the basis for my choice in husband.  In fact, it won’t be a factor at all.

Laters & G’Night,

Mantha

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