Hey guys. It’s me. Your close friend and diehard enthusiast of your top-notch relationship. You guys are the embodiment of love, and everyone is jealous.
So listen — I got your wedding invitation.
It means the world. I’m honored that you actively want me present on such a special day, and I’m thrilled to tell you that I will be in attendance. It was a no-brainer, really — but I have to admit that the wedding’s location gave me pause.
It’s far. It’s far from where I live, and it’s far from where you live. It's a destination wedding, and I’m feeling some kind of way.
Apparently a “destination wedding” is defined as marrying at least 100 miles from where the bride currently lives. That’s some sort of official definition. For me, though, a destination wedding is when I am required to get in anything other than a car and pack anything more than a roomy duffel.
Being a guest at a destination wedding is a production.
Now, I realize that my woes must seem insignificant next to the mountain of legwork you need to do to even get this thing off the ground. You must know that I respect your choice and am in awe of your ability to pull it off. Trust that on your wedding day, I will do everything in my power to ensure that it’s the day you dreamed of, and I will fistfight any force that threatens that dream. This includes weather.
I will fight weather, guys.
For you, the couple, it makes sense to spare no expense. It’s a day you’ll remember for the rest of your lives. You’ll tell your grandchildren about it on the moon. There will probably be moon colonization by then.
But for me — and this is going to sound harsh — it’s one of [insert two-digit number here] weddings I’ll be attending this season. So while you’re willing to spring for the fanciest resort, I can’t have you insisting that I do the same. Ya girl is on a budget, and that’s the truth.
Nowadays, everyone has a wedding website. They’re useful. Directions, slideshows, registry links... It’s all good stuff. But you must understand that your destination wedding website needs to be ROCK SOLID and CHOCK-FULL of sweet, sweet info nuggets.
If your wedding is a week-long celebration, give me an itinerary. If your venue is in the middle of nowhere, tell me what to do when I get off the plane. If accommodations are scarce, give suggestions, and hit me with a link that will give me lots of booking options. If I won’t be able to plug my phone charger into the wall because it’s a whole different country, let a sister know what kind of outlet converter to invest in.
My point is: If you think you overdid it information-wise on your website, you probably underdid it.
Traveling can take its toll. Please do not mistake my jet lag for apathy about your blessed nuptials. It’s jet lag.
If I’m looking fatigued, just get the DJ to play some new J. Biebs, and I’ll be reborn. That’s all it takes.
Now, I’m not trying to get a pity invite to the rehearsal dinner here. Those things are intimate, and I’m perfectly happy to go explore what I assume is a fantastic locale on my own for a night. But I’m going to need to crash that day-after brunch, at the very least.
The way I see it — I came a long way to spend time with you, and I want to milk every. single. second. So I take my eggs over easy, thanks for asking.
Realize that this sort of expense is just too much for some people to justify. It’s not a reflection of your importance to the regretful decliners.
Understand that this is a sacrifice you made the day you booked your venue, and don’t corner me in the bathroom after two and a half glasses of champagne to try to get me to renounce our college roommate Emily for “completely bailing.” She loves you, but she’s a grad student.
You two are the best, and if you decided to have your wedding in the lost city of Atlantis, I'd still RSVP yes.
That's the end of my rant. Let's talk bachelor/bachelorette party.
Hugs and kisses,
Your Devoted Friend
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