The Better Bride

I have seen mile-stone celebrations many times. Weddings, bat mitzvahs, baby showers, first birthdays, and I can't help but notice that there is wide spread competition between people to have the most unique, most expensive, most special, etc., etc. The point of the celebration is being lost for the display. And that is fine by me; until the facade extends beyond the fondant sculptures, flowers, lighting design and centerpieces.

You have a friend just like her. I know you do. We all know that one woman. She is attractive, smart (not dim enough to wonder if the can has tuna or chicken in it based on the brand, but no rocket scientist either. The misogynistic, traditionally acceptable smart-enough-for-a-woman smart.) and sweet. Oh, so sweet. Saccharine, really. The one who makes diplomacy look like an invitation to a schoolyard brawl.

I have that friend, too, and she is getting married. I am very happy for her and her groom, and truly wish them a lifetime of lovely memories and hope for them all that they want. But the more encounters I have with her during the months coming up to her wedding the more I want to stick a pencil in my ear. I am not very close to this woman and as such, lucky enough to have not been asked to be a bridesmaid, the torturous positions are held by sorority sisters, cousins, childhood friends and co-workers (There are about 12 bridesmaids). So, I do not know what it is like on the inside, though I can't imagine that her drippingly sweet speeches and close-to-tears expressions of sentiment flow as freely as they did during her exorbitant and pretentious bridal shower.

My interactions with her in the past have been limited, as our acquaintance is a web designed of six degrees of separation. She has always been incredibly sweet, not polite, not well-mannered - sweet. Beyond sweet, mawkish. Though somewhere buried beneath that soppy, nauseatingly sugary veneer lies a harridan, a spoiled brat intent on having her wildest whims catered to.

I can't help but wonder, which is better, the honest and flawed individual, or the devious and camouflaged? Which is the better bride, the overtly obnoxious or the secretly saccharin? As I reflect on this weekend's events, I am chagrined to admit, each must be tedious in their own way.