So it turns out that when Mr. UB said "you plan the wedding -- just tell me when & where to show up," he was sort of ... exaggerating. Because so far he's nixed my idea for dishes, and had a whole dissertation about why my bribery of Marija (see previous post) was jumping the gun. Also, he has re-iterated his love for dark wood furniture. (Something that needed no such re-iteration, as I am reminded of it every time I set foot in his room, but I digress.)
I know there will be compromise, and this isn't a hill I'm prepared to die on (I may fight a skirmish or three here) ... but I simply cannot take major input on the aesthetics of a) the wedding or b) our home-to-be's decor from someone who is still living in Bachelor Guy In His 20's Land. Two mis-matched futons, a Halo 3 poster displayed above his replica Master Chief helmet, (if you don't know what that means, spare yourself,) and a pair of recliners that he refers to as his "Chandler & Joey chairs" as if that was a good thing. I love this man, but he needs major housebreaking -- in an "I miss his old coke-head roommate who loved to clean the apartment when he was high" kind of way.
So: we may have to take this slowly, and one item at a time ... but no freakin' mahogany. And these Vera Wang dishes are beautiful.
There. I feel much better.