<![CDATA[Jezebel: unholy matrimony]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/jezebel.com.png <![CDATA[Jezebel: unholy matrimony]]> http://jezebel.com/tag/unholymatrimony http://jezebel.com/tag/unholymatrimony <![CDATA[Braving The New York Weddings Showcase, Round 2]]> Last year, when I attended New York Magazine's Wedding Showcase, I was a single, self-proclaimed slut looking to mock Tory Burch-clad bridezillas, and got distracted by the open bar. This year, I'm an engaged woman.





However, I was still distracted by the open bar. I guess some things never change.

Like the garbage cans at the event. They were elegantly draped in linen just like last year.

2009:




2008:




I went with my mom, fiancé (hate that word still), fiancé's mom, my BFF since high school who's one of my bridesmaids and who just got engaged a few weeks ago, and my BFF's mom.

Once my mom and dad got involved in the planning for this wedding, it got so far away from the small, intimate evening I'd envisioned, and is quickly turning into the kind of giant circus wedding—with relatives I haven't seen since I've menstruated for the first time popping up on the guest list—that I really had no interest in. But they're paying for the party, so it's kind of more their thing, than mine, at this point. I haven't put much thought into any of the planning, beyond having booked the venue and the photographer (who's a friend of my fiancé's). I haven't even tried on a single dress.

Speaking of dresses, there were a ton of them on body forms at the wedding showcase. And they were all strapless. I hate that 98% of wedding dresses are strapless and the other 2% are sleeveless.




Anyway, just like last year, I was mostly interested in drinking free wine and eating free hors d'oeuvres and cakes. However, this year, I took the time to fill out all the different raffle cards to win free shit like flowers, makeup, and discounts from various vendors. (My mom kept every pen from each booth she filled a raffle card at, saying, "It's all freebies here," despite the fact that they were Bic pens without caps or a promo printing.)

The thing is though, since the venue I'm using includes catering and the cake, and requires that I use one of their florists, and since I'll probably end up designing invitations, the only vendor to shop for was maybe some form of entertainment, like a band or a DJ.

The one thing that I knew I wanted was to find a string quartet who could play Mariah Carey songs (or at the very least, "Fantasy") leading up to the ceremony and during the cocktail hour. I did find an awesome company at the showcase called Orchestrations, that can turn any song into a string arrangement and provide you with musicians to play it. However, when I asked the woman at the booth about prices, she wouldn't give me any quotes, but assured me that they could work with "any budget." I know how that goes, though: Unaffordable!

After working half the room, I was hot, exhausted, annoyed, and ache-y from lugging around my goodie bag which weighed a whopping 12.5 lbs. (I put it on my scale.)

It was so crowded, and I was sick of being pushed and shoved by frenzied women with flat-ironed hair, wearing their huge purses in the crooks of their elbows. I felt like I was at the mall on the weekend before Christmas. I wanted to get out of there.




I still maintained a sense of humor—or perhaps delirium—because I found this hilarious:




Heh. Seamen.

I don't plan on wearing a veil, but I tried one on for shits and giggles, and before I knew it, the five people I was with each whipped out their own camera to take my picture.




When I put it back on the rack I saw that it was $1000, and it was one of the cheaper ones of the bunch.

We were there for about two and half hours, and I knew it was time to leave. When I got home, I rifled through my goodie bag.




It included:

  • 2 copies of New York magazine
  • 2 hardcover books (A Great American Cook by Jonathan Waxman and the novel A Bad Bride's Tale by Polly Williams)
  • Chestnut cake mix
  • A bottle of water
  • Redken straightening spray
  • Kenneth shampoo and conditioner
  • A crystal keychain
  • Measuring tape and a $50 gift card to M&J trimming
  • Lavilin deodorant cream
  • Korres watermelon-scented, 30 SPF face sunscreen
  • Peanut butter crunch Full Bar
  • Victoria's Secret makeup bag with perfume and lip gloss
  • 2 chocolate bars
  • 2 bottles of Milani nail polish, French manicure colors
  • Milani eyeshadow and brown lip gloss (which would not be approved by Ashely from Rock of Love Bus)
  • 3 different containers of mints
  • A brownie and some kind of white chocolate candy
  • Sewing kit
  • YSL mascara
  • Gift certificate for a facial peel
  • 20% off of cosmetic surgery, Lasik, Smartlipo, Botox, laser hair removal, Juvederm, Restylane, or a prescription for longer, darker, fuller lashes
  • About three million coupons and flyers


  • It also had a Fashion Forms Bridal Kit that has dress and lingerie tapes, one size extreme silicone adhesive body bra, silicone gel petals, one size thong, and a garter.

    I was interested to see what a "one size thong" looked like. It's officially the first thong I've ever owned.




    The "extreme adhesive body bra" looked two fallopian tubes away from a uterus.




    Which was perfect, since the silicone gel petals look like a form of contraception.




    They feel really nice, though. I've been squishing them all day, like they're stress balls. I anticipate getting much use out of them, that way, over the next few months.

    Last year, I said that the wedding showcase didn't really sway me either way, on whether or not I wanted to have a wedding of my own, and compared it to anal sex: I always said I'd never take it in the rear; now, sometimes I do. I figured that planning an open bar party to celebrate spending the rest of my life with one person couldn't hurt more than getting fucked in the ass.

    And it doesn't. But there's a lot more shit involved.

    Earlier: Single Slut Crashes New York Weddings Showcase

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<![CDATA[Former FLDS Member Who Took Down Warren Jeffs Appears On Oprah]]> Elisa Wall's testimony — about how she was forced, at 14 years old, to marry her first cousin, and have nonconsensual sex with him — is what helped send Warren Jeffs, leader of the Mormon fundamentalist polygamist sect, to jail. Today she was on Oprah to talk about her experience. She described her upbringing and the lack of education she received, particularly about her own anatomy. Even though she begged to not marry her cousin at a young age, she was forced to go ahead with it, and was given no information about what would happen on her wedding night, explaining that she had thought beds were only used for sleeping, and that the entire experience of consummating her marriage was incredibly traumatic. Clip above.

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<![CDATA[Marriage Problems From The '30s To Today: It All Boils Down To Sex]]> In Sunday's Times of London, there was a feature on Britain's Marriage Guidance Council (MGC), now known as "Relate." The nonprofit MGC was founded in 1938 in order to help mend Britain's ailing marriages. The Times publishes some of MGC's case files from the '40s, and one caught my eye in particular. It is case No. 67, which tells the story of a 26-year-old artist and his wife. The wife has an illegitimate child who was fathered by a border — a naval officer — whom the family lodged. According to the caseworker, "The husband does not in the least resent what has happened, likes the other man and is very attached to his wife." The husband is not resentful, the caseworker reasons, because the husband suffers from an unspecified "sexual perversion" that stopped him from doing it with his wife.

The articles goes on to discuss the kinds of problems that couples have faced in the past 70 years, according to the MGC. The same thread unifies all the unhappy couples: they're not having sex. Whether the lack of sex is the root of the unhappiness or a result of other problems, in the '50s as well as the aughts, no fucking = no fun.

In the past decade or so, according to MGC therapists, the biggest problem has been with the sexual confidence of British men. Peter Bell, MGC's head of practice, tells the Times, "In the last 10 years, the number of men who say they have 'gone off' sex has risen dramatically. Men used to come to us with impotence, now known as erectile insufficiency, but Viagra has sorted some of that problem. What we have is a lot of men who, as women did in the 1950s, say, 'I can have sex but I don't want to. It's not rewarding.' I think that's because women are more aware of what they want sexually and are prepared to ask for it. Male confidence, as the gender who knew how to have sex - always an illusion - has been blown."

I tend to agree with Reverend Herbert Gray, one of the founders of MGC, who said, way back in the 40s, that sexual passion was "'the driving force in life' in a partnership of 'equals.'" Could you tolerate a marriage without that passion like the cuckolded artist and his wife?

"Marriage Problems Through The Years [Times of London]

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