I am in my friend’s wedding next month, and I am not bringing my boyfriend, for this exact reason. He won’t know anyone and would only be going to accompany me, and I won’t be able to hang out with him at all. This would put him in an uncomfortable situation, at loose ends, having to sit around all day. We discussed it and decided that it would be most fair all around if he didn’t go. If I were just another guest, that’d be a different story, but since I’m in the wedding party, I already have a “date” in the form of whomever is the groomsman assigned to me, and I have stuff I have to do that can’t include him. Good thing my BF agrees with me on this 100% and doesn’t feel slighted, because I’d hate to have him be in the situation the OP discusses.
MISS, the only part of your actions or thoughts I’m personally having a small problem with is this:
You would have gone “where you were told to go,” and think they should have had a place to “stick you” – There’s just such an air of helplessness in this, like you had absolutely no control over where you were, went, or did. You’re not four years old. Presumably, you could tell when you were not welcome – you’d have had to be stupid not to get that message from Miss Thang Bridesmaid! You could have taken steps to entertain yourself or look after yourself. Drop the ball-and-chain off and go for a drive; sit in the lobby (surely the country club had a lobby?); go for a walk on the beach. Have a drink in the bar. Whatever. I don’t think the bridesmaid’s rudeness is in any way excused, but I’m not buying the “I had no other choice” part of the story. I don’t believe the wedding hosts have any obligation to entertain guests who show up early; they have too much else to do. If you choose to come early because that’s when the BF has to be there, then it is up to you to look after yourself. So while I find the bridesmaid’s actions HUGELY rude, I don’t think it was rude of the wedding hosts to have failed to anticipate and provide for your early arrival.
Whenever I read a situation like this, I try to relate to both sides (actually, I usually automatically relate to one side or the other, then have to work on relating to the opposite one).
Were I Mississippienne, I believe I would have done just what she did (assuming there was no bar for me to hang out in).
Were I the bridesmaid (but still myself, of course), I would not have been able to be so rude. If my friend the bride was seriously “freaked out” by having a stranger in the room, I would have retreated from her until she turned back into a reasonable human being (after making an attempt to help her do so with calmness & rationality & a dose of empathy for all concerned). If she’d insisted that I “throw” someone out, I would have declined, even if it meant being kicked out of the wedding party & losing her friendship. Who needs a “friend” who’d ask you to do something like that, and hold it against you if you didn’t?
Now, were I the bride - and I’ve been one a couple of times - well, the first time I was young and idiotic, of course, so I’d probably have just kept crying or whatever. But the second time, I was the hostess - and I know my duty as a hostess is to make every guest comfortable and welcome, to the best of my ability. That’s what I did my best to do, waiting to eat until all the other guests had gone through the buffet line and I had first spent time talking with each & every one of them, and I was happy to do so. Not expecting to be canonized for it or anything, just pointing out what someone was obliged as host/hostess to do for Mississippienne, dammit!
Some people trash the sport of golf because it’s seen as just hitting and chasing a little white ball. They do not understand the REAL TRUE POWER of golf. This true power would have been used in a therapeutic way to relieve stress and regain control of the situation at hand that has bothered our fellow Doper. Always have available:
- A driver.
- A couple of tees, especially long ones to adjust the height and length of your drive.
- Five bucks to buy a bucket of balls.
Now, go out to the driving range. Take in the expanse of grass, trees and air. Listen to the birds sing, the sprinklers sprinkling. Feel yourself being “one” with the course. Deep breaths. No, I mean DEEP breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Count inbetween them…start at 10 and work down to zero. Good. Now put one of those little white balls on your tee and stick it into the ground. Look at the farthest reaches of the driving range…you FEEL you can send that ball to the end of the range now, huh? You can send that little white ball where ever you want it to go. Now, go back and breathe. Count up from 1 to 3 between breaths. Now, find an apartment that houses the bridal party…that’s it…just about 46.8 degrees to the right and about 200 yards distant. Target acquired and within range…ONE DEEP BREATH…Fire away.
That’s the one person who’s been left out in this analysis. The grandmother either:
(1) was graciously entertsaining Mississippienne, having sensed that she didn’t know anyone in the bride’s party; or
(2) was bored out her mind with her granddaughter and granddaughter’s friends being bridezilla and accompanying lynching party.
Of course, both could be true. So bridesmaidzilla was equally rude to the grandmother, but grandma was either too polite or too frightened to do anything about it.
And if I had been in grandma’s shoes, I’d have suggested to Mississippienne that the two of us just take a walk around the country club, and get out of the way of granddaughter and her attandants.
I agree with Jodi, to a point. But isn’t the maid of honor or one of her other hovering fawners supposed to take care of that shit? Telling someone to ‘beat it’ is a far cry from ensuring the bride’s day goes smoothly. She should have grabbed an usher or another bridesmaid and escorted, or at least pointed her, toward neutral territory.
You wouldn’t have had to even suggest the bar to me…after that initial display of “hospitality” I’d have been on my fourth drink before the couple completed their “I dos”.
Good point. Grandma was apparently the one person who made a proxy attempt to make a guest feel welcome. Yay for her.
It may be wrong, but this line has me cracking up.
If the bride was really freaking out, I could certainly see the bridesmaid saying something like, “Hon, I’m so sorry, but the bride is having a bit of a meltdown right now–is there any way y’all could take your conversation down to the beach? We’d really, really appreciate it!” That’d be at the bare limits of civility, but I could see it.
This, though? Yowza!
Daniel
Hmm . . . no, this still strikes me as a bit too precious. Her Brideness can’t get her shit together, and it’s the fault of two guests (one of whom is her freaking GRANDMOTHER) who are quietly talking in another room? You’re more generous than I am, LHoD. Still no pass from me.
As an afterthought re the country club thing: When I was reading this thread earlier, I must have blocked out the bad memory of the time I was a vendor (selling my handmade jewelry) at a bluegrass festival held on the grounds of a marina/country club. Geez, those people wouldn’t let me go ANYWHERE without a pass, or permission, or an escort. And I was paying them a booth fee for the privilege! That was one of many many reasons why we bailed after half a day, packed up our stuff (in the pouring rain, I might add), and just went home.
So it wouldn’t surprise me if Mississippienne had similarly limited options on where she could go, short of leaving altogether.
She was a self-absorbed bitch.
There’s no shortage of them in the world. So don’t fret over it.
guests seems to me to be the operative word.
In all her Bridal Magazine purusing she missed the part where you need to make sure out of town guests - particularly those attached to, but not in, the bridal party, are taken care of. You know the groomsman will be busy getting dressed, what its polite to do is make sure the “significant others” have SOMETHING to do and SOMEWHERE to go.
Which is why well planned weddings have this complex out of town itenerary they want you to sign up for. From flying in on Thursday to “happy hour for significant others and out of town guests” while the rehersal is going on - its scripted. You don’t HAVE to participate, but no one is feeling like “I’ll just sit in this corner and…”
I guess we had a different attitude when my wife and I got married.
It finally dawned on us that the wedding was not about us; it was about the guests. One we realized this, we didn’t fight it… we simply acknowledged it. We were the entertainers. Our job was to see that everyone had a good time.
And that’s exactly what we did.
The bar was stocked, the music was blaring, and people were dancing.
Did we give a flying fuck about how we looked, or what color the flowers were? Nope. Didn’t give a shit.
Everyone left drunk and happy. It was a good wedding.
That does sound like a good approach. It makes it a matter of “It’s not you; it’s her,” as opposed to, “She’s very emotional :dubious: and it’s ALL YOUR FAULT!!”
I also don’t see how sitting outside on the patio could reasonably (operative word) be taken as disturbing the bride. How old were these people, anyway? And I agree in theory that Agent Foxtrot should not have told Miss to go back to the bridal apartments, but I’ll give him a mulligan since a) he was probably distracted by his own duties (“was very confused”) and b) it doesn’t sound as if Miss went into detail about just how combative the bridesmaid was. It sounds like Miss dealt with it with as much grace as anyone could ask for.
This is why, when I turned 18, I told my parents that they would not be dragging me to any more weddings.
Your feelings are your feelings. You don’t have to justify them. Sometimes you can control them more than you might think, but you own them and you don’t have to run them by anyone.
With that said, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had just stared the bridesmaid in the eye and then suddenly reached out and tweaked her breast while making a loud buzzer noise.
Somehow, that image brings me comfort.
Tell it. Years ago I was the head bartender at my city’s Most Prestigious Country Club Where All The Old Money Went To Die. A couple was married amongst all attendant pomp and whatever, including matching Ferraris and a trip around the world.
The were divorced before the trip ended.
Shit! I’d pay good money to see that! 