This scene always makes me laugh. Most women get crazy competitive, dive, and throw elbows for the bouquet like they’re fighting for the last loaf of bread after the apocalypse. Here, the ladies from SATC seem completely unimpressed by the bouquet toss.
I, however, take up the complete other end of the spectrum, being completely horrified by it. I think it’s a stupid, sexist tradition that demeaningly parades all the single girls out in front of the crowd. The garter belt toss for the guys never seems to garner the same level of humiliation because for men being single is something to brag about. During the bouquet toss, I always want to grab the mic and bellow, “Step right up, gentlemen, and pick yourself a ripe and desperate one!” Ugh. Makes it even worse when you think about why women even carried flowers at weddings to begin with, because it covered their stench during the medieval times when bathing frequently wasn’t an option. Fantastic. Here’s a wad of plant reproductive parts so you smell less and maybe some man will finally want you! He doesn’t have to carry flowers to smell good for you, but you’d better smell good for him. I know today it doesn’t have the same meaning, but it just brings my hackles up.
The following collection of pictures demonstrates my fear and loathing of the bouquet toss and bouquets in general (for fear I will be forced to catch it) throughout every wedding I’ve been to in the last several decades. As you’ll see from these pictures, I’m great at masking my emotions. Good thing I’m not an actor. I would have been fired a long time ago. I assure you none of these are staged.
So please, do me a big favor. If you’re getting married and you plan to invite me, don’t be offended if I sneer at your flower arrangements. It isn’t because I think you have bad taste in flowers, I just think you have bad taste in bringing it near me. And for the love of all that is holy, please don’t send people to pull me out on the floor when you throw the bouquet. One of these times, I’m going to snap and start yelling, “Unhand me, you fiend! I’m not single, I’m married to Jesus! I’m calling the cops, dammit! This is kidnapping!” all the while beating people with the glass of whatever alcoholic beverage I’m consuming. So, unless you want an assault breaking up the most expensive day of your life, I would suggest you take my monetary donation to your happiness, let me drink, and let me be.