Marriage is a beautiful institution. Two people set aside their personal interests to become one. This union is marked by a (hopefully) once- in-a-lifetime ceremony commonly referred to as a wedding. In about six weeks, I will have a wedding of my own. With such a short amount of time before the ceremony, plans are frantically being made, work is constantly being done and a lot of stress is being had.

But the best part is, being the groom, I’m not involved with any of it.

Almost all of the wedding plans are being done by what I like to call the Wedding Committee. This committee is made up of my fiancee, my mother and my future mother-in-law.

When it comes to the Wedding Committee/groom relationship, their main job is to put me under the impression that I am somehow important to the wedding. Anyone who knows anything about weddings knows this couldn’t be further from the truth. It is a well-known fact that the least important person in the entire wedding is the groom. The flower girl plays a significantly larger role. She at least has to pave the way for the bride. The groom does nothing. Not a dang thing. To be honest with you, I plan on sneaking out about 10 minutes into the ceremony to shoot hoops in a nearby park.

Being the lowly groom, whenever the Wedding Committee tries to explain something about the wedding to me, they always talk to me as if I am just barely learning English.

“The fabric that goes around the bride’s leg is called a garter. Can you say garter? GAR-TER.”

The hardest part of interacting with the Wedding Committee is pretending like I have opinions. Brides have opinions about everything. Take clothes, for example. When it comes to the wedding, the girl dreams her entire life about her wedding dress. She’s kept a bridal magazine under her bed ever since she was 8 years old. She attended her first bridal show when she was 16. When the day finally comes where she picks out her dress, it’s one of the most magical moments of her life.

For me, I never thought about what I was going to wear until I was confronted by the Wedding Committee.

“What kind of tuxes have you been thinking about to wear for the wedding?”

“Um, black, I guess. Is that what you meant?”

“There are lots of different colors, Isaac,” they say, as they look at me as if my brain is made up entirely of dirt. “And what kinds of accessories will you get to go with it?”

“Accessories? Like a top hat? Is the wedding supposed to be Mr. Peanut-themed?”

“Not a top hat. Like a vest.”

“Once again, is the wedding supposed to be Mr. Peanut-themed?”

So, for obvious reasons, I have been left out of most of the wedding plans, which is just fine. Out of an act of charity, the Wedding Committee approached me and told me it was my duty/honor to pick out what all of the men involved would be wearing.

“This is your choice, Isaac, and we want you to have it just the way you want it.”

“OK,” I said. “Since the wedding color is purple, let’s just have all the men wear a white shirt with a purple tie.”

“What?” they shouted in complete horror. “We can’t have the men be wearing white shirts at the wedding!”

“OK, then pick something else out.”

“But it’s your choice, Isaac. We want you to have what you want.”

“I want white shirts and purple ties.”

“But we can’t do that!”

“Then pick something else out yourselves!”

“But we want it to be your choice!”

Despite the fact that the Wedding Committee thinks I’m incompetent, I am still pretty excited for my wedding. I am excited to see all of my family and friends, and I am excited to see my beautiful wife wearing her dress, but most of all, I am excited to shoot hoops at the park. If you’re game, meet me there 10 minutes into the ceremony.