A close friend is (finally) getting married to his girlfriend of many years. This friend was married before, but his previous wife died in a tragic car crash ten years ago. So when he decided to get married again, he asked me to serve as a groomsman in his wedding. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said “yes” — well, perhaps I was thinking the wedding would be informal.

At our age if a wedding occurs, especially a second wedding, it is usually much less formal. But both the groom and the bride have both sets of parents and grandparents still living, and their expectations are for a very fancy and formal wedding. The bride’s parents are loaded–so all the trappings of a big wedding are expected.

I generally avoid weddings, but was considering participating as requested for the sake of my friend (and his fiancee who is really sweet). However, when I happened to be at my friend’s mother’s house last week (doing a minor plumbing repair), she said…

…”I will plan a dance at the reception for all the groomsmen with the newly married couple. You can really put on quite a show and everyone will love it!” Whoa… a choreographed dance? Me?

I know Mom is a retired choreographer for a major dance studio. She knows her stuff and is very good at it.

I gently asked, “you mean a dance for the wedded couple and parents, right?”

Mom said, “no — I mean for everyone in the wedding party. This will be a demonstration of my choreography skills. I really want to have something special like this.”

Then she went on to say how nice everyone would look in their fancy dresses (women in the bridal party) and men in their tuxes dancing whatever dance she was going to organize.

My friend’s Mom has known me for over 40 years. She turned directly to me and said, “yes, even for you — you will wear a tux and like it!” She knows full well that I hate that kind of thing and assiduously avoid wearing suits (like once a year), much less formal wear.

Then what was worse is that she said, “I know you were ‘those’ boots, but not at my son’s wedding. You’ll rent patent leather shoes like my husband and everyone else. And no riding that motorcycle to the wedding!”

The color had drained from my face — not really about the “no motorcycle” order, but more about the required dance and the formal wear. I have never been a good poker player — I cannot disguise how I am feeling.

I finished the plumbing repair, hugged “mom” and went home. Didn’t say anything while I was thinking about what I heard.

A few days later, I saw my friend who is getting married and explained what his Mom said. He just shrugged. “That’s Mom.” I love my friend but know after all these years that he will never go against his mother’s wishes. Yeah, he’s always been a “momma’s boy.”

I tried negotiating with my friend. “I can wear boots on the day of the event and she won’t be able to say a thing.” My friend didn’t think that would be a good idea, because his mother would pitch a fit.

Also, there was no way that I could avoid dancing. I hate dancing. I cannot dance. As a teen, all of my older siblings tried — and tried hard — to teach me how to dance, but their klutzy, uncoordinated, awkward little brother just couldn’t do it. Falls, stepped-on toes, the works. When they went “cha-cha-cha,” I went “bing-bang-boing.” They gave up and ran out of the room, and I was just as happy that they did. I never went to a dance in school or danced at a wedding, and I am not going to start now.

I discussed this with my spouse who said, “it’s your call. If you’re going to be miserable, no one around you will have any fun, either.” He is right, of course. And he would not be there with me. He hates these things more than I do.

After several days of thinking (and some sleeplessness of concern about letting my friend down), I called him and said, “after thinking this through and knowing what your mother wants, I think you will have to find someone else to serve as a groomsman in my place. I just can’t do it.”

My friend said, “I was expecting this. I can’t say that I am not disappointed, but this is so far out of your comfort zone, I couldn’t put you through that misery.” Thankfully, he let me off the hook.

Sheesh… I hated having to do that, but it is better to back out now rather than later by refusing to participate in activities that I can’t stand (dressing in formal attire and dancing) and that would make me miserable.

I don’t think I will do any plumbing repairs for “mom” for a while until this blows over. Knowing “mom,” that could be many years.

Life is short: be realistic with what works — or will not work — for you. Don’t agree to do things that you cannot.