are apparently a relatively recent social development (regression?), created by both the storybook marriage of Lady Diana and Prince Charles and the gluttony of spending encouraged by the politics and atmosphere of the 1980’s. I recently discovered them, via a low-budget reality show of the same name, and am somewhat confused. First of all, what man in his right mind would tie himself to a screaming, whiny, passive aggressive woman? And, second of all, how did these women get this way?
Recounting too much of these shows will give me a massive headache (I only watched them because I couldn’t get to sleep, and it seemed like innocent fluff, at the time), so I’ll just list a few things these Bridezillas actually did, and then, a brief, amateur psychoanalysis. Women on this show slapped men at bars, cried when put on hold, stopped the car on the side of the highway and made the passenger get out and walk, and thew all manner of glass and food objects at their fiances.
Much more descriptive, I give you actual dialogue:
“I’m going to kick her out of the car if she doesn’t shut up” (bride speaking about her mother)
“Did you guys come over to carve pumpkins or to bitch me out?!”
“I went after him, and I kind of forced him to love me.”
“Did you want me to walk down the aisle with my roots showing, bitch?”
“She did this to me on purpose; she got pregnant just because I’m getting married!”
“Y’all don’t get it: it’s about me.”
After watching just three 45 minute long episodes, I can say with certainty that I’d take the actual Godzilla over these Bridezillas any day; at least the real Godzilla would kill you quickly, instead of dragging it out over five or ten agonizing years. (Although I’ve heard they have follow-up shows on some of these marriages and rapid divorces, so place your bets now).
What really stuck out to me, besides the appalling horror of femininity’s worst side, is the immature, completely un-evolved state of every bride, much of the bridal party, and many of the brides’ mothers. The brides have such a fixation with self, coupled with some rigid idea of a perfect wedding; this, naturally, runs up against all the other giant egos in the room, and entertaining verbal (and sometimes physical) abuse ensues. It’s like rock ’em sock ’em egos: wind them up and watch ’em go!
The grooms, for their part, mainly just kept their heads down. One after another would say about their horrible brides, “She’s so loving, so giving.” I suppose it’s all in the eye of the beholder. Many of these men were clearly not very self confident, and less attractive then their shrill fiances. And how many of them had mothers who yelled all the time? We love what’s familiar, either secretly or publicly. And then there is the astonishing price tag: ten to twenty thousand dollars for a wedding? I’d pass on the fifteen thousand dollar party and put the same money towards a piece of land and building materials to make a home; spending that much on one day doesn’t make sense to me, on any level.
And so, as I close this chapter of my life forever (watching “Bridezilla”), I feel grateful that I’ve never been pressured by anyone to get married (not parents, not partners), and also that I don’t feel the need to go (further) into debt to finance some materialistic fairy tale.