I should have known better. I should have seen the name and thought, Don't even bother. I should have considered your sister publications (Vogue, Glamour) ... or your girlish, pink-ish orange cover ... or the even more obvious fact that your primary demographic is not 26-year-old men...
...but I didn't. I couldn't help it. I flipped through the entire magazine. 2E's discovered me at 1AM, passed out on the couch, a couple of pages into the spread on signature cocktails. Resuming the task this morning, I realized the significance of the page I was on when I dozed off (pg. 376): the personalized beer bottles from My Own Labels. I now understood what had happened. I'd collapsed from the sight of the first man-friendly image in the entire magazine. 376 pages in.
How can we -- the men, the grooms, the ones often charged with lack of interest in the wedding process -- how can we get interested when there's nothing that piques our interest ... aside from the occasional Mikaella Bridal model or the Virginia Ham cocktail biscuits (p. 369).
And no, the 8-page, outdated Men's Wearhouse formal(wear) education ad isn't going to cut it. Who actually wears a red pocket square with a black and white tux? "Geometrics mermaid" is a hideous accent color. And a personalized harmonica is never an appropriate groomsmen gift (pg. 286). The "choose a fun accent color for the tie" method just doesn't cut it in 2010. These aren't class portraits! Guys want style. Grooms need a little freedom to think and dress outside the box. Call it what you will. Call it taking an interest.
Sure, there are a couple things I can pick out from the real wedding Love Stories, like Indira & Nevin and their garden gnome centerpieces and Punk Your Chucks sneakers. Or Pamela & Derek and their vintage typewriter-as-guest-book and rock candy mason jars.
I can skim through the bridal experts and pick out some relevant words of wisdom -- like stay together for the first 15 minutes of your cocktail hour to help the photographer capture candid shots (c/o Maribeth Romslo) amongst others.
As for the rest of the 400+ pages in this tome ... well, we're from different worlds, aren't we? You don't know what I want, and I don't know what you want. And no, I don't want this to feel like a break-up because -- well -- we were never really an "item," were we? But maybe in another time ... a time when I'm more feminine and you're more masculine.
Oh forget it. Pass the Virginia Ham biscuits.