Best: My aunt’s wedding. Super quick ceremony. I and my cousins were all in the 6-11 year old age range. She had a piñata for us at the reception. We devoured candy and danced and ran around like maniacs, it was glorious.
Worst: Years later, one of those same cousins mentioned above gets married. In July. In Massachusetts. Outside. The heat and humidity were unbearable. And they KNEW the weather was gonna be shit, because the wedding program they handed out to everyone before the ceremony began was shaped like a fucking fan. THEY KNEW.
The ceremony finally ends and the catering staff makes everyone wait outside the dining hall in the heat for unknown reasons for another full hour. When we’re finally let in, the AC is struggling to keep up and it’s hot as hell in there, too. When the dinner is served, it is NOT the vegetarian lasagna I chose on the wedding invite, no, it’s a portabella mushroom burger. I hate mushrooms, I would have never chosen such a thing. They switched the menu out and didn’t tell anyone. Also, no open bar, wtf.
Best: My wedding. It was low-key and beautiful. The only thing I should have done differently was hire a photographer because the family members who were taking pictures did a shit job.
I’m honestly hesitant to answer the next part. I will with the disclaimer that it contains references to sexual violence. If that’s uncomfortable for you, please accept my apologies and read no further.
Worst: My brother in laws wedding. The ceremony was fine. After that, we stood there for a bit talking to my wife’s dad and step mom. Her dad basically admitted to mollesting one of my wife’s cousins when she was a teenager. He didn’t phrase it as an admission. He said she “accused him” of getting her drunk and assaulting her. And then he laughed it off saying that he couldn’t imagine why anyone would accuse him of something like that.
My poor wife stood there the entire time, speechless; gripping my arm like a vice. We excused ourselves and went back to the car. She cried the entire way to the hotel. One of the few times I’ve ever seen her do that. She said she thought he had only assaulted her. She never imagined he would do that to other girls, otherwise she would have said something.
It took every ounce of restraint in me to keep from knocking his teeth out while he was telling that bullshit story because I knew he had done it but I also knew my wife wouldn’t like it if I made a scene.
The lesson I took away from that experience, one that I try to carefully convey to my kids, is that if you are a victim of sexual assault, please, please, please tell someone. You may not be the first. But you most likely won’t be the last. I know it’s hard. I know it’s painful. I know you wish it had never happened. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame my wife for not telling anyone because I know how painful it was for her.
But here’s the thing. You can’t erase the past. But you might be able to make sure you’re the last victim, if you can find the courage within yourself to speak up.
There are times when you know you should not make a scene. Use this time to plan out in your head the scene you are going to make at a later time.
Someone needs to collect that jackass’s kneecaps…