It’s amazing that in the past 10 years I have been in 16 weddings as a groomsman. With those 16 weddings I have been able to witness some amazing moments as two become one. Each time it is a moment that reminds me how powerful a connection between two people can be. In these weddings, at that moment, it doesn’t matter what has happened earlier in the day, or if there was family drama the day before, at that moment, nothing else, no one else, matters.
As I prepare for wedding number 17, I am reminded of these experiences, and recognize the honor it is to be asked to stand by the side of a friend as they enter into a covenant with the woman of their dreams.
So in honor of the 16 couples that have been blessed to have me by their side, I want to share one of my most memorable moments that will one day grace the pages of my future book, “The Serial Groomsman”. I am hoping this book can be a Rom Com similar to 27 dresses, I just have to figure out the end.
The year was 2014 and I was about to walk down the aisle for the 3rd time in a period of 6 days. You could say this was the center of wedding season for me. My schedule was full, and thankfully the bride and groom were understanding. The grooms mother picked up our clothes from the local JCPenney, and we were ready to go. We spent the day before at rehearsal dinner eating amazing grub, sharing stories of how we met the couple, and spending the rest of the evening in prayer for the future of this amazing family. As we dozed off to the images of sugar plums dancing in the air, and the smell of freshly made cake wafting in the distance. This was sure to be the Wedding of the decade.
In the morning we woke up early in attempt to get ready for a day full of pictures. We picked up our assigned outfits in preparation for the day, the ones that were picked out for us, and we went our separate ways to get the day going.
We realized quickly that there is a reason Men’s Warehouse fits each one of their suits to the person who will be wearing their suits. As I put on my pants one leg at a time I realized that this was going to be a tight situation. Slowly as the situation became more bleak, a second realization occurred, in the scurry of wedding preparation we realized that these pants were missing a crucial part of any wearable pants. You see there is part of a zipper called the Slider that allows you to close the pants with ease. Without this, the zipper itself is deemed useless by those in the zipper industry.
With panic a trip was made to the local JCPenney to hopefully find an alternative pair, only to find that the pants were the last of their kind, and somehow, this will all have to work out.
When we returned back to the house we were greeted by the photographer ready to get images of the preparation process. After a long session of brainstorming in pants that didn’t quite fit, and couldn’t quite close, it was determined that the pants must be sewn shut, and because the pants just barely fit over my badonkadonk, the best course of action would be to sew these pants closed with me inside them.
For the next 15-20 minutes each of the groomsmen took their attempt at closing the barn door, all quickly realizing they have never sewn, or even attempted to sew. After each of these failed attempts, as the wedding seemed to approach quicker and quicker we began to give up hope. These pants may never close, so we sent out an SOS to all those involved with the wedding.
After what seemed like an eternity we received a text from a woman that was overseeing the girls house at this wedding. At this point I had heard stories of this lady, but I had never met her, the thought of a stranger sewing my pants closed with me in them terrified me to say the least, but I remembered that the day was not my own. My job was to stand by my friends, and if that meant taking one for the team I was going to do so.
We drove a quick minute over to the house the bride and her bridesmaids were getting ready in. As the rest of the men sat outside the door, remaining their distance from the bride prior to the unveiling later that day, I stepped inside to a woman standing at the stairs with a needle and thread. Without words she stepped up to me, and with a stern serious face, in a less than empathetic voice proclaimed, “Don’t worry, I’m a nurse, I’ve done way worse stuff down here.”
Here is to another season of Weddings, here is to another love story, and here is to the unsung heroes that really make a wedding happen.
I am thankful for the memories, and hope to never have to be sewn into pants again.