THE INITIAL MEETINGS - Who is the Fairest of Them All?

The initial trip to the photographer’s studio was a mix of marketing and intrigue. My fiancée is a ten, and I’ll self-promote myself as a strong seven. As I take in the “viewing room,” a small area with a table, a bookshelf full of proof books, and pictures everywhere on walls and easels, I think:

We will so make the wall of fame. Or will we be too intimidating for those who follow? Or will they put us on the wall due to our lack of intimidation? Or will we not get the wall at all? Can I pay extra for it?

The price of any given print is seemingly ten times what it should be. I have a camera that uses film. I take that film to be developed, and they make prints from the developed film. I began to hypothesize what accounts for the extra $8 per 4 x 6 inch print?

“Your overhead could be reduced by not using solid gold to stamp the pictures with your logo. Our wedding photos really aren’t your cattle.”

“Is that the same photo-processing equipment they use on the space shuttle? Oh, you actually send them to NASA for developing. Lack of oxygen does bring out the blue in my eyes.”

Wisely, I reserved these comments for when I was home alone, enjoying them with my make-believe audience of celebrities and the cat.

Who doesn’t suffer the frustration and amusement of that witty comeback three hours later on the car ride home from work? You’ll get him next time, you think, envisioning exactly the same scenario tomorrow, when you’re prepared, and the subsequent ticker tape parade thrown in your honor. Then you get home and want to show off your razor-sharp, albeit time-delayed, wit by adding it seamlessly to your summary of the day’s events, only to find out that it really wasn’t that funny, and you were better off being the brain-numbed nitwit that is your work personality.

Had I really asked about print costs, I envisioned the response as: “What are the memories of this most special day worth to you?” And then I’d be screwed, as any answer less than priceless cheapens your wedding.

All vendors want you to believe that their services are in demand, that you have only one wedding, and you should lock up the best, which they are, as soon as possible. The photographer’s studio had hundreds of thousands of shots to choose from. I assumed that they would choose in-focus prints to display. They emphasized every soft skill and casually recounted the wedding horror story about their unfortunate cousin, probably fictitious, who went discount.

Candidate photographer, please don’t wow me with special effects like a Glamour Shots glow or airbrushed stronger chin or bigger pectorals. Just understand how the equipment works, and we’ll make each other look good. To quote Jeff BeBe in Almost Famous, “Is it that hard to make us look cool?”
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival

THE MAGIC OF THE RING

Christa contends that The Ring bestows special powers upon its wearer. She has not been granted eternal life with the accompanying vocal tick of Gollum, but there have been hints of good fortune, as she interprets them.

For example, on the way home from informing the families, we were not able to reserve seats for the Chicago-to-LA leg of our trip. We were told to speak with the gate representative thirty minutes before flight time. We figured we would be sitting apart from one another, near the lavatories. So she “put The Ring to work,” as she described it. At the counter, she handed our tickets to the woman left-handedly and left The Ring on display on the countertop. Somehow, not possibly by the airline overbooking economy, we were given first-class seats. Ten more flight upgrades, and Tiffany and I can call it even.

Another instance of the power she experienced was that, within a single hour at the mall, three older gentlemen came up and, out of nowhere, said something like, “You’re purty.” “That stuff doesn’t happen to me,” she said.

All I could think was: That was a blessing—your very own lecherous old men? It’s a Festivus miracle.

Then I realized that the power of The Ring had been extended to me. No gloriously handsome, wealthy but humble, honest but flattering, fine piece of ass had approached her. It had been a selection of random older guys—suitors I could, hopefully, compete with easily. Suitors I could possibly out-woo on looks alone. Thank you almighty ring!
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival