How To Help Your Groom with the Rehearsal Dinner

I am a lucky bride. My groom has been so helpful with so much of this planning. That's why I feel badly for the subterfuge surrounding the rehearsal dinner planning. Similar to the honeymoon, the tradition puts planning the rehearsal dinner on the groom's lap. Where it will sit like a warm kitten, purring and comfortable until I slam the door shut and the cat hits the ceiling, claws extracted.

Since so many of our rehearsal dinner guests are coming in from out of town (as far away as London), we need to get this done soon. Gary really wanted to head this up so I let him have it (no pun intended).

I've noticed a scary thing happen. I've become passive-aggressive. A trait I normally do not carry. A famous actor once said how disgruntled movie directors are -- but he didn't know if the process did that to them or if they started out that way. I'm wondering if the same can be said for Bridezillas. You take a sane, mild mannered woman, give her a full-time job, a mortgage, a few extracurricular activities, and a wedding to plan and BOOM! Insta-psycho. ("Where did my fun-loving girlfriend go?" says the groom.)



A couple months ago we were at the Georgetown waterfront celebrating a friend's birthday. She absolutely loves this place called Agraria, so much so that she gave us a personal tour of the place like she built it herself. She's charming. The dimly lit, modernly furnished rooms evoke the sense of being in someone's dining room -- well, someone with several million to spend on fine wood furnishings and incandescent lighting. I pulled Gary through the areas where I thought we could seat the entire bridal party, plus family. He agreed. I picked up a business card from the hostess stand and slipped it into his pants pocket. I'm so bad.



A month later, I received a brochure in the mail from one of the reception locations we looked into, but decided against: Capital Yacht Charters. Another unique idea for the dinner I wasn't responsible for planning! I "accidentally" left the brochure in his pile of mail on the foyer table. He still hasn't mentioned it. Note to self: do not mail Gary anything urgent.



Last weekend, we attended my friend's rehearsal dinner at Indique Heights in Chevy Chase (I wasn't in the wedding; I was the wedding photographer, which is why I was invited). They had a nice little room to seat 30-35 of us comfortably with an exotic little fountain in the middle of the room. "Hey, this would be a great place for our rehearsal dinner," he said as I fell out of my chair. Finally! I couldn't help expressing how it was about time he got around to it. He even emailed his dad to ask if Indian food would be okay with his family. I was so elated that I failed to follow up. I didn't have to.

"Did you ask my mom to bug me about the rehearsal dinner?" he asked me yesterday. "No," I said and then had to wrack my brain for validation of my answer. Apparently she had called him, bugging him to move forward with it already. Thus far I have not pulled the "Trish, can I ask you a favor" card. But now that I know it exists, I will keep it in my pocket for future reference.

(As of this posting, he has yet to make reservations anywhere.) Maybe if I post an entire blog about it....he, he, he.