Mayr-wige.

Mayr-wige is dat bwessed institution dat bwings us togeva today.

Translation:

Marriage is that blessed institution that brings us together today. Well, Saturday actually. But boy was it blessed.

So after that sloppy introduction let me tell you that I went to a wedding this weekend. Rather, I was in a wedding this weekend. As an usher.

Come a little closer.

That’s it.

A little more.

NEVER be an usher in a wedding. It requires so much random work its ridiculous. I had a good time and I wouldn’t take that time back. But unless I’m a groomsmen, I’m planning on planting my happy ass right in the pews with the rest of the love-viewers.

Now the point in bringing this up is that I witnessed something at this particular wedding that serves as a cautionary tale to all those young whippersnappers thinking of embarking on marriage and the ensuing planning and ish. I’ve been to no less than 5 weddings since last May. And I was in 4 of them. And I ain’t NEVA seen no shit like I saw at this wedding.

Let me unfold the story.

We’re at the part most people come to see at a wedding. YES YES!!! The bride is nearing her triumphant entrance into the sanctuary. Myself and the other usher are preparing to head down the aisle to roll the white carpet out for her…

YES YES!

Two young men tasked with the responsiblity of walking in with bells and screaming at the top of their lungs “THE MARRIAGE OF MALCOLM AND BETTY!” (well not really, but you get the drift) begin their walk into the sanctuary and then…

…the pastor says stop. He motions the two young men to stop. He tells them to walk out of the church and that we should roll out the carpet first, ya know, the white carpet that only the bride is supposed to walk down untouched.

The wedding coordinators shriek in horror as this man has managed to completely RUIN the wedding proceedings.

Ladies and gentleman, the pastor actually STOPPED the wedding so that he could have things happen in the manner in which he felt it should happen. It’s not in my nature to not like a man of God.

I do not like this particular man of God. Nevermind that the actual change he made wouldn’t have made any real difference for the wedding and was totally unnecessary. He just felt it should go the way he viewed it. It was not, so he made it do what he wanted it to do.

He…is a bad person.

The night before at the wedding rehearsal, he changed up the entire setup that was previously coordinated by those who coordinate such things. Perhaps we should come up with a term for them…perhaps…wedding coordinators. He decided he wanted to coordinate.

And coordinate (and confuse and discombobulate) he did.

I can’t even go to this church ever because of this man. As long as he’s the pastor, I couldn’t go. My god wouldn’t want me worshipping with his god.

While the proceedings were going on I just kept thinking to myself, when I get married, things will be made very clear to the pastor and everybody involved that it is MY WIFE AND I’S wedding and that ain’t NOBODY gonna wrest control of ANYTHING.

Mind you, the bride and groom told the pastor they wanted something to occur in the wedding.

He said, “no.”

At their wedding. They paid this man.

My god and his god might fight if that were to happen.

So, I leave you with three simple rules for getting married:

1) Make sure you’re marrying somebody you want, not just somebody you knocked up. Marrying somebody you knocked up (or got knocked up by) is such the bad look.

It is hip-hop. But it is not smart.

2) Make sure that you let people involved in the wedding know details that they need to know way in advance. If they are Black, they will need much advance notice.

It is rule. It is fact. We are Black. We need details.

And last but not least…

3) Do not ever let a grown ass man take control of your wedding and ultimately do shit his way which will ruin you doing it your because he felt that his way was better when truly its your day and your way should trump his way because your way is what you paid for not his way.

Apparently, Joe Jackson ain’t the only nigga who had control issues.

Word to Janet Jackson.