It's All About Me

Catching the bouquet OR How I was assaulted by a grown woman in the middle of a dance floor

The throwing of the bouquet at weddings is a funny sort of tradition. The announcement of this event usually provokes two reactions: either groups of giggling girls will rush the dance floor, jostling and jumping with excitement at the prospect of being the next to the altar; or the ladies will despise the tradition, and try to shrink away as family members oust them one by one and thrust them into the single spotlight whether they want to or not. At the latest wedding that I attended, these were the two responses that I had prepared myself for. What I didn’t expect was a third … that the bouquet would turn otherwise civilized women into a big bucket of crazy.

Throwing the wedding bouquet has its origins in England. Wedding guests would grab at the brides clothing, and flowers. It was all in a rather pushy, shovey and misguided belief that if they snagged a memento of sorts from the bride's dress or flowers, it would help to share the joy among the guests. The bride would try to protect her clothing and escape the mad rush of people. It came to be that the bride would toss her bouquet of flowers into the crowd to distract them so she could make her escape. Apparently this was all done in the spirit of good fun. Yeah, right. Some poor bride gets chased around the room with greedy guests trying to willfully cause damage to her outfit, and rip her flowers to shreds and pull her hair out so she runs away because she is HAPPY about this? Seems to me that this would not be sharing in her happiness, but stealing it, as I am pretty sure the bride would be pretty peeved at having a ripped gown, ruined hair and crushed flowers.

These days the bride throws the flowers and whoever catches it is said to be the next in line to get married. No gown tearing, no clawing, no attacking.

Or is there?

At the latest wedding I attended, the unmarried ladies gathered on the dance floor and the familiar ripple of excitement went through the crowd. The bride held the flowers, turned around and counted to three before launching the bouquet into the crowd. The women jostled and shifted and lurched forward. But it was in vain… The bouquet sailed effortlessly towards me and I caught it. But before I could celebrate, two women launched themselves at me and tried to wrestle it out of my grasp. What the hell? I CAUGHT it. The luck didn’t transfer if you STOLE it, did it? Before I knew what was happening, one of the girls stomped down on my toe, hard. She then proceeded to dig her nails into where my thumb was wrapped around the base of the bouquet. The other girl had dropped off by now but there was no way that I was letting go to Miss Stompy-Foot, not because I wanted to desperately get married and I believed this was my only chance, but because who DOES that? She must have realized I was not letting go because next thing I knew she had reached in with her other hand, grasped the actual flower heads (it was a bunch of faux-flowers) and ripped the blooms right off their stems.

I stood there, with my mouth open, holding the petal-less stems.

By this time, Miss Stompy-Foot was holding the flowers aloft in victory, parading them around the dance floor. I struggled to fight back tears, again, not because I was desperate for the luck, but because I was so shocked that a complete stranger had assaulted me in public and, lets face it, I was a little drunk. I thought I would appeal to her sense of decency and fairness. “Come on,” I said to Stompy-Foot. “I’ve been with my boyfriend for nearly six years and I’m waiting for a proposal!” I laughed it off, a little too nervously. “WELL I’VE BEEN SINGLE FOR FUCKING TEN SO I DESERVE IT!” she snapped at me, before turning on her heel and walking away.

Wow. I can see why, I thought.

The story has a happy ending. The lovely lady sitting next to me, outraged on my behalf, decided to suddenly hop up and dance away from the table. Five minutes later she was dancing backwards towards me before whipping around and revealing a very large bulge under her shirt. In one swift movement, she pulled the flowers out from under her top, snuck them onto the table and, smooth as anything, danced away. But even now, WEEKS later, I am still shocked that a superstition could cause such a riot! Both historically AND now.

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