head thingy, petticoat, etc.
But now he's taking this a bit further. He doesn't want me to see what he's wearing before the wedding. As in I've been banned from the expedition with groomsmen to Men's Warehouse this Sunday. Hence the title of this entry ...
Allow me to explain: it's not that I'm some crazed control freak who wants to micro-manage what my man wears, or disregard his opinions about things. Hello -- he has to wear the damned thing, of course he should get what he wants. But ... um ... this is the same man who caused the Irridescent Teal Tie Incident a few months back ... so I have concerns. And I'm trying to stay reasonable -- really trying -- but I don't know about this.
I tried everything, from mentioning that I would consult him on a video game purchase, to acting hurt, (am I proud? no -- I'm human) to outright begging. No dice. What am I supposed to say when he tells me that picking out his tux feels like the last autonomous act of his single-dom? I can't compete with that.
Fortunately, I had one last weapon in my arsenal: his Best Man's cell number. While the above discussion was still going on, I was furiously texting, with lots of things in all caps and way too many exclamation points. And while it turns out that the bastard drives a much harder bargain than I expected from such a normally mild-mannered dude (his 1st response: "What's it worth to you?") ... I have secured his having-my-backness. It's costing me money, drugs and lapdance lessons for his girlfriend, but it's worth it. Now I just have to figure out where to get drugs. And money, for that matter.
So: LL -- if you're reading this, let me re-itereate: NOTHING REFLECTIVE!! Or I'll make you guys wear those effing ties!
*Please note that the purpose of this entry is to (hopefully) get the Bridal Blogoverse to weigh in and take my side, regardless of my argument's merit. And babe: love you!