Wedding Planning: The registry

As someone who can’t always take compliments well and shies away from attention she didn’t deliberately bring on herself in the moment, the most awkward time of wedding planning has come: making the registry.

Or, as my brain calls it: asking people to give me stuff.

Cory and I feel the same way about this, but we realize it’s nothing to be ashamed of. People want to celebrate with us and express their congratulations in a variety of ways, and one of those ways is giving us something they know we’ll use and appreciate as a newlywed couple. So we’re going to push through and try to avoid thinking of it as us being selfish, greedy tyrants demanding dishes and bath towels from our loyal subjects.

Which brings me to the point of my post today. Last Friday, Cory and I visited Bed, Bath & Beyond to start our registry. Allow me to pause here to emphasize that there are two kinds of grooms: those who have 7,631 questions and want to be super involved with picking everything out, and those who have a hard time deciding if making a wedding registry or stapling their toes together is a more a painful way to spend an evening. Cory falls into the latter category.

In his defense, the saleswoman who helped us set up the registry is probably used to dealing primarily with what the brides want, so she talked solely to me most of the time, and only addressed Cory when she needed his information in the computer system. She handed me the scanner and turned us loose in the store. We began in the kitchen section – my  favorite – and I stopped to carefully survey every shelf.

It didn’t take more than seven minutes for Cory to comment, “Gah-lee! I could have had this whole store scanned by now!”

(Side note: Cory reads these posts and usually rolls his eyes when he sees that he’s made it into my blog once again. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I just love writing about you xoxoxo.)

He chatted with the saleswoman for a few minutes to pass the time, and I overheard him mention, in not so many words, how absolutely stone-cold bored he was while I examined plastic food storage containers and ice cream scoops.

“Well, what sorts of things are you interested in?” the woman asked. “Do you like to cook?”

Guys, I couldn’t stop myself. Laughter burst forth from me like a volcanic eruption, rumbling through the kitchen section and probably into the cleaning and home decor sections. Cory and the saleswoman whipped their heads around to stare at me, Cory glaring (in jest, I think), and the woman expressionless (probably because she thought she was about to witness a domestic dispute right in the middle of the store).

My man is loving, funny, sweet, handy and a multitude of other wonderful qualities, but a chef he is not. Any time I’ve seen him “make dinner” for himself, it’s been either sprinkling salt inside two cans of tuna or something as complex as slapping a hunk of meat on the skillet and eating it a la carte. Still, perhaps my reaction was over-the-top.

Anyway, Cory asked the saleswoman if he could have his own scanner, and I didn’t see him for about 40 minutes. I think most women know that, much like with a dog or a toddler, when your male significant other grows silent in the other room or disappears, some crazy stuff could be happening without your knowledge. However, I remained optimistic and meandered my way through picture frames and bed sheets.

This was the second picture we took. The first one he snapped when I had just raised up from looking at something on a lower shelf and had my glasses on. This one is better.

When we finally met back up, Cory was all too eager to show me some of the things he had scanned. I felt a comical sense of dread when we passed the trademarked Squatty Potty and he said over his shoulder, without stopping, “I put one of those on there.”

A Squatty Potty. On our wedding registry.


Moving on.

Honestly, everything else he showed me was cool. Monogrammed hand towels, Kentucky coasters, wall decor with Bowling Green’s longitude and latitude, even a cute little old-school white cow creamer. We’ve both already got a lot of stuff from living alone, so it was good that he found some unconventional things that gift-givers can choose from, in addition to the more traditional items I found.

All in all, I’d say it was a good balance. That’s not to say it’s not incredibly obvious who registered for what. When I opened up our registry online and saw the vinyl albums of Journey and Bruce Springsteen and one duffel bag, well…I can tell you that wasn’t me.

I’m certainly not embarking on a dull life with this guy.

2 Replies to “Wedding Planning: The registry”

  1. Love how you Look at “The Box”…. From the outside. Even though said Box still “believes ” you are Still inside. Almost like a mirror affect…… Great job Monica

    Liked by 1 person

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