Soon after our engagement, it became clear that weddings are supposed to be about getting stuff. Given recent events, this was sort of a revelation.
We just moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles, merging our respective homes in the process, donating a ton of furniture, kitchen items and things we probably should have thrown out on our own. So after getting to know the people at Salvation Army on a first name basis, keeping our lives de-crapified seemed like a good strategy.
It's not like we're living off the grid -- our monthly power bills demonstrate that clearly. Like most women, I have too many shoes and enough clothes to dress everyone on my block. But we live by this creed: If we don't have space for it, then we don't need it. When we were living in San Francisco, we even though about having just one car. But then we moved to LA...
George Carlin has a routine about the insane need to acquire and store stuff. (See it on YouTube.) His point: People wrongly think that more stuff makes you feel more secure. I always thought that more stuff would make my world more complicated and cluttered. Apparently I have been wrong about this.
Last Thanksgiving, B and I went to New York to see his family. It was the first time that we had seen them since we had gotten engaged, and people kept asking to see my ring -- something I am also guilty of doing.
My ring is a simple white gold band, which we bought online. It was on sale and cost $72, without shipping. We're in the fortunate position where I could have gotten a diamond. But I wasn't sure why I needed a traditional diamond engagement ring. To show that we had the money to pay for it? And when people asked to see my ring, did I need the judgments about whether he spent too little or too much? Why not just put an AmEx platinum card in a setting?
I decided not competing was the best way to compete. What I didn't anticipate, was how much this bothered some people.
When in New York, in response to a question about being engaged, B's father pointed at our rings (B is wearing his wedding band now) and said "They're not engaged. They're wearing wedding rings."
Ouch!
B's mother wanted to go look at diamond rings with me. She said that should get an idea of what I wanted and then have it made less expensively somewhere else. I resisted. But I wanted to be the good future daughter-in-law. I certainly didn't want to imply that I didn't approve of her five carat diamond ring -- it just wasn't right for me. So I looked at rings. However, nothing appealed to me in the store. I am sure the term "Bridezilla" crossed my future mother-in-law's mind. I mean, why should I be so stubborn?
She then asked B and I to go look at housewares, "to start thinking about what you'll register for." B and I looked around and realized that we had most of what we wanted, since we're a little older and have bought things over the years. I already inherited silver (which I never use).
We left the store, saying we had gotten some "ideas" -- the idea being that most crystal and china is pretty ugly and we have no place to store it.
Most of all, I just feel plain weird asking people to buy me stuff. I want my friends and family to come to the wedding because it's important to me. They're already paying for transportation, food and lodging. Should I be asking for more?
After ring and housewares shopping, I spent a few weeks wondering if this is something I should be excited about. I should want a traditional ring? Maybe I have low self-esteem, I thought. I even contemplated whether I didn't ask for enough out life.
My future in-laws dropped the ring issue, yet still have inquired a few times since then about registering, and I have demurred. Thankfully, B recently responded that we owned most of what we needed, which put an end to conversation.
Another reminder why I am so glad I am marrying him.