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The Bridal Registry Story

Since we just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary (Polymer, I believe) I think it appropriate to tell the tale of what should have been a clear warning to my now-wife of what she was about to enter, i.e. a lifelong covenant with the likes of me.

Many of her friends had gotten married by the time we decided to get all nuptial, and married recently enough that their tribulations were fresh in their minds and fresher in their conversations. One recurring theme was the non-participation of the groom-to-be.

"Bob won't do X"
"Jeff won't go to any Y"
"I can't get Fred to Z."
"Jack keeps postponing talking about ____."

And so forth.

And so on.

So, my beloved, with these admonitions fresh in her impressionable mind, decided to invite me to the Bridal Registry. I hadn't considered it in the least, but I said that was fine (that, in itself should have been a warning) and off we went to the Big Fancy Department Store; since swallowed up …

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