A groom with a view

In the last few months, I have enjoyed nothing more than sitting down with a glass of wine, a stack of magazines and reading about Real Weddings, and during this time I have come across my fair share of statements dropped from the mouths of blushing brides that I find hard to believe. From “my bridesmaids and I spent the morning decorating the marquee before we went to the church – we had so much fun” (Really? Did you really have fun attempting to lay ten tables symmetrically when you were two hours off tying the knot?), to “our guests were so happy with the favours we gave them – a photograph of the pair of us” (OK, take a long look in their eyes because it’s not happiness you can see, but irritation at your smugness and the only place that photo will be going is the bin).

However, recently I came across a statement that topped the lot. “I was unsure what favours to give away, but my fiancé Paul came to the rescue by suggesting we give each of the male guests a jar of homemade jam or chutney and each of the girls some handmade soap.” Yep. That line made me almost choke on my glass of wine. And here’s why.

Try as I might, I cannot bring myself to believe that ‘Paul’ ever uttered these words. In fact, I would imagine the conversation went more like this:

Bride: Paul, I thought I might make some batches of homemade jam and chutney to give our male guests, and then I could knock up a few dozen bars of soap for the ladies? It would really go well with our ‘country garden party’ theme. But then maybe I’m giving myself too much to do. What do you think?

Paul: Mmm-hmm, yeah, whatever…

OK, I may sound cruel. But the fact is, when it comes to weddings, most of the men I know appear to be somewhat clueless (or they simply haven’t reached the second realm of insanity that is a bride’s day-to-day life).

And yet I am supposed to believe that Paul not only took an active interest in what favours his guests received, but also made specific recommendations based on the attendees being male or female (and we’ll ignore the fact his suggestions meant someone – probably not him – was going to have to spend the next few days stirring a vat of boiling onions or strawberries).

He’s not alone either. I’ve read interviews where grooms are fighting to throw in their tuppence worth. One suggested other men “listen patiently to their brides and act as a calming influence”, while another said “ensure you are as involved as possible in planning the little details of your wedding so your personality shows on the big day”. So, I am supposed to believe that these guys were busy ripping pictures out of magazines and gluing them in endless scrapbooks before pinning mood boards around the kitchen for inspiration, when the majority of the men I know couldn’t pick the pansy from a line of peonies if their life depended on it?

If I ask D anything at all about the finer details of our wedding I get one of three responses:

A) Mmm-hmm

B) How much?!

C) We don’t need fairy lights/flowers/canapés

And I’m not alone. My brother is getting married next year and when I asked him one question too many about his impending big day he responded with: “Don’t ask me, I’m just waiting for my invitation to find out what’s going on.” It’s not that guys don’t get involved, but what they focus on is exchanging vows, not searching for paper lanterns to hang from the rafters.

I have been to a lot of weddings and when congratulating the groom on organising such a beautiful event they always say: “Thanks, I didn’t really do anything though.” It’s not that they don’t care, it’s just that while they have been planning this wedding for a year or so, a girl has been preparing for it her whole life and the vast majority of a bride-to-be’s concerns are beyond her groom’s comprehension.

Yet if I’m honest, I’m glad D doesn’t take an interest in the finer details, such as whether we have feathers or flowers as the centrepieces or what colour dresses the bridesmaids should wear. It’s hard enough planning a wedding as it is, without rowing with your fiancé over whether your guests should throw paper or petal confetti at you. So, while I marvel at the Pauls of this world (and continue to ponder their existence) I cherish the fact I’m marrying a man who will always be more interested in buying jam for me than asking me to cook five gallons for our guests.