Sam's Guide to Bearing Rings (by Sam)

So, they’ve asked you to be in their wedding. Of course they did, you stud, you. Who wouldn’t want you to serve as an integral part of their nuptials, one of the most sacred moments of their life? It’s a lot of responsibility and you’re just the guy for the job! As a ring-bearing veteran, I’ve learned a few lessons and have a few solid tips to offer.

Step One: Enjoy yourself. Don’t let the stress of the day get to you. If you’re dealing with a full-blown bridezilla, you’re in trouble. Seriously. I looked it up, and it turns out they can legally smack you around if you throw a tantrum or something. “Mitigating circumstances due to matrimony” is the defense. Better watch yourself.

Step Two: At the rehearsal, do everything you’re told to do. If you’re working with a flower girl, consider yourself lucky and soak it in. Hold her hand when necessary, but don’t let her get too comfortable. If she starts to get too clingy, run away and hide from her. Don’t show yourself until she offers up some candy. Hold out for the good stuff.

Step Three: When the priest is giving important instructions to the bride, groom, bridal party, and all other relevant persons at the rehearsal, don’t listen. It doesn’t seriously concern you. In fact, don’t let anyone else listen either. Instead, demand gum. Loudly. When your mom gives you a piece, discard it somewhere in the sanctuary and demand more.

Step Four: On the morning of the wedding, carbo-load. Bagels, donuts, mimosas: consume it all. You’re going to want to make sure you have enough energy for Steps Five through Fifteen.

Step Five: Don’t get dressed until the last minute. Keep that suit clean! Refuse pants—unless we’re talking subzero wind chills. Then you can eventually surrender to pants.

Step Six: In the bridal room before the ceremony, you’ll need to consume more carbs. You gotta keep that blood sugar way up high! Wedding diet be damned! Swedish Fish, gummy bears, peanut butter crackers, all of it. You’ll need some extra energy to ferociously rip apart your boutonniere just before you head down the aisle.

Step Seven: Do your job. Walk down that aisle. Like a boss. One foot in front of the other. You got this.

Step Eight: Don’t let your dad see the ceremony. It’s just his younger sister getting married. He probably doesn’t care to see her exchange sacred vows with the love of her life in front of God and all her loved ones. Instead, have him push you around in a wheelchair in the narthex. This is what he really wanted to do when he woke up this morning anyway.

Step Nine: Celebrate. You did it! Pass out some beers to the bridal party on the bus. Be generous. They can all afford to have a nice buzz now.

Step Ten: Pictures. A necessary evil. Insist on having your mom hold you for all of them. Even the ones you’re not supposed to be in. And DO NOT look at the camera. Look away. Show everyone the back of that macho Euro-trash haircut. They’ll want to savor those memories.

Step Eleven: Nap. For real this time. You’ll need to be well-rested for the reception. This wedding isn’t going to ruin itself.

Step Twelve: Take the microphone from the Maid Of Honor during her speech. You’ve been rehearsing for months. “Fight Song?” You’re ready. “Happy Morning, Happy Baby?” Belt it out like you’re Pavarotti. No one wants to listen to her birdbrained jokes anyway.

Step Thirteen: Party. Hard. Suck some liquor out of every abandoned mixed drink and champagne glass you can get your hands on! And dance like it’s your last night on Earth. Recommended move: sway slowly back and forth and convulse your fists up and down. Works for every song!

Step Fourteen: Don’t you dare leave that reception until you’re served cake. And snag some M&M’s on your way out the door. Make sure everyone knows you’re not happy about leaving.

Step Fifteen: Finally, if you have to travel for the wedding, see my related post on How To Fly on a Plane next week.