Long before I was ever engaged, I was fascinated by weddings. I devoured reality wedding shows like Say Yes to the Dress and Four Weddings, pored through wedding magazines, and scrolled through countless boards on Pinterest. So by the time I got married in 2016, I had a good sense of what I (and of course my fiancé!) would want for our special day. The big things—the things that people tend to remember—were easy: the venue, the food, the photographer, the flowers, and even my dress—no problem. The future spouse—that was the easiest of all—I never had a moment of doubt. But despite being so prepared (and the fact that I’m a media professor who knows how the “wedding industrial complex” works), I still obsessed over the little things.
For instance, I was devastated when I learned the custom monogrammed envelope liners I was eying were unavailable. Does anyone even pay attention to the inside of a wedding invitation envelope? Fortunately, I was able to find place cards with a pearlized border that matched my save the dates, invitations, and RSVPs perfectly. Unfortunately for my mother, I simply HAD to have her hand-letter everything with her perfect Catholic school penmanship—my loosey goosey public-school cursive simply would not do! In retrospect, I’m not sure that’s exactly how she wanted to spend her birthday visit, but I must say, they did turn out great.
As the wedding drew closer, I experienced a moment of panic when the venue informed me that they had gotten new chairs. I know that sounds like a good thing, but I had to ensure that I could have the “sparkling champagne gold” chairs that were guaranteed in my contract because the new “fruitwood color” would not match the color scheme. Luckily, my original chairs were available. Crisis averted.
I know it sounds like I was a bridezilla—I wasn’t, I swear! —but at the time, it all seemed to matter so much. I know if I asked any of our wedding guests—even my closest friends and family—what the place cards looked like or the color of the chairs, they wouldn’t be able to answer. The rational part of my brain did know that these details weren’t important, but it was clashing with the cultural forces telling me that making the right choices was crucial to having a beautiful wedding and lasting marriage. After all, brides are constantly told their wedding day is the most important day of their lives. They repeatedly hear that it needs to be magical, memorable, and unique—a perfect reflection of the couple and their relationship. As a result, brides feel like they need to meticulously coordinate every aspect of the nuptials, all while making it look effortless. Bombarded by these unrealistic expectations, it’s easy to see how even the most level-headed person succumbs to the pressure.
This year, I’m celebrating my tenth anniversary at the same time as two other brides in my family are planning their own weddings. Imagine my surprise when one of these brides saw my handwriting and asked me (ME!) to address her invitations. While naturally, I agreed (I’m not a monster!), I also used it as an opportunity to share my own experience. With a decade’s worth of perspective, I laughingly admitted that absolutely no one, besides her, cares, even though it’s so easy to get caught up in the minutiae.
While “don’t sweat the small stuff” is common advice when wedding planning—I don’t entirely agree with it. I would tell anyone getting married that instead of obsessing over things like chargers, runners, or candlesticks, they should shift their focus to the small moments leading up to the wedding and every day after. Give that same level of attention to the people surrounding you—really notice and appreciate their support. Hold on to those everyday acts that add up to a lifetime of love.
Ten years later, I can confidently say what really mattered on my wedding day. From the smiles and cheers to the embraces and happy tears—it was about treasuring each moment with my loved ones…and not worrying about the linens.
Lori Bindig Yousman is a Professor of Communication & Media at Sacred Heart University.