Shopping and Wedding Planning - Reflections on 2019

 

While I was still sucked up in the love bubble of a fast-talking master manipulator, I agreed to marry him. Clearly, I completely lost my mind by that point and the entire world was sending a search party for my common sense. There was no ring, no token of affection, just promises of a future, that I was beginning to doubt could possibly exist. 

During that short time of apparent happiness, we went shopping as a jumping off point for wedding planning. As far as wedding planning went, his priorities were completely bonkers. First, we needed to send out save the date cards (without having any venue booked, or me being divorced.) Then secondly, we needed to figure out what the groom was going to wear. You read that correctly dear reader, the groom needed to have his outfit long before there was a venue, confirmed date, anything else. Priority number two.

So off to Stratford we go to visit the shops for the millionth time. It seemed that the groom to be could do nothing other than peruse the expensive little shops downtown Stratford dreaming of the things that he could not afford. It grew tiresome quickly, however on this day, I somehow agreed, as it was for wedding shopping. (Honestly, I thought he wanted to go dress shopping, or something, he was so excited, then I realized, as always it was about him.) 

In Stratford there is a quaint store that sells tartans and kilts and all things Scottish. Was the groom to be Scottish? Not from what I could tell, but he had his heart set on wearing a kilt. (For a moment I thought that maybe he was a closeted cross dresser, and this was the only appropriate way to wear a skirt on his wedding day.)

Anyway, we go to the Scottish store, of which the name I have long forgotten, so that he can look at tartans. This is a store that he claims to have shopped at many times before, and even his outfit for opening night at the Stratford Theatre was allegedly a tuxedo comprised of tartan pants purchased from this very store. I had been regaled with stories of Asshole shopping with his best friend who also had purchased many a kilt from this store. He was a regular there. Or was he? Upon arriving, there was no warm welcome, just the customary greeting any stranger would receive. We perused for awhile, and then I was advised of the plan to wear kilts at the wedding. I can only image the story my face must have told, as I was not interested in the slightest of kilts at my wedding. He wasn’t Scottish, and I have only the tiniest bit.

He gets help finding a kilt to try on and comes out of the dressing room with it on completely wrong, and very pissed off that he can’t figure it out. With hands flapping and gesturing while throwing a fit like a petulant child he demanded that I help him figure out how to wear it properly. Red flags start waving in the back of my head. I thought he was a regular here. I thought he had come with his friend many times to try on kilts. Strange. No one wanted to help him from the staff, he was clearly a menace. 

I was less than amused at this point, and tried to walk away for a bit, but the demands of “why aren’t you taking pictures“ was hard to ignore in a store where you don’t want to be the centre of attention. I snapped the obligatory photos, and again, was met with demands of “post that to Facebook right now.” Ugh the obsessive Facebook. While he had been in the changeroom, someone was talking to the staff about ordering pants, etc. “Oh no, you can order fabric and take it to a tailor. We do not sell any fully made garments aside from kilts.” Wait a minute, that doesn’t match the story of how he came to have a tartan tuxedo…

Then he started going on about how he needed to order the correct tartan. The only things I know about tartans I learned from Disney movies, so I knew that there was a family tartan. Again, he wasn’t Scottish, so what tartan was he planning on wearing to our wedding? Talking to the staff, they got out the big book of tartans. It was overwhelming to see the options available. Then he started asking about the specific one he wanted. The Cameron Tartan. In the moment I was still wrapped up in the love bubble of a newish relationship, that it took me a few minutes to realize that Cameron was the ex-wife. He wanted to wear her family tartan to our wedding. You have got to be kidding me.

If you would like to see a picture of the Asshole in his kilt, you can find the original version of this story here.