Meet Josh, Bridal Party’s very own guest-blogging groomzilla. He’s giving us the groom’s perspective on wedding planning and everything that comes with it, so check back every Wednesday to see what’s new.

I went the other day to try on tuxes for the wedding. Now, I don’t consider myself a slob—but I am not exactly a clotheshorse, either. It’s not that I don’t like new and fancy clothes. It’s trying them on, getting fitted, getting refitted, and then trying them on again that drives me nuts.
 
My fiancée and I started tossing around wedding ideas before we got engaged. Putting the cart before the horse is typical for us, and when you have known each other as long as we have, these kinds of talks happen. I had always wanted to get married on the beach, preferably on a tropical island wearing slacks, a linen shirt, and sandals. I quickly learned that the tropical island was out (too far for family to travel), so I suggested the Florida Keys. This met the same resistance. I suggested the Outer Banks, but neither of us have any connections there, so we nixed that one. Then I suggested the Eastern Shore. This got serious consideration, and we started looking at August dates. I was happy, since I figured I could still pull off the relaxed look. Little did I know . . .

It started with my sandals being replaced by shoes. Next the slacks and linen shirt were out. I tried to replace it with a linen suit, but this, too, was vetoed. Finally I thought we had found common ground with the idea of a tux or suit done in light, linen-like colors. I was really excited, since it would be a very cool look and a lot of fun to plan.

That was a few months ago. Now, we are having the wedding in October. In a hotel. That is nowhere near the beach. And my outfit? A black tux! So you see, my friends, the dirty truth about being a (reluctant) groomzilla is that you can get anything you want for your wedding—as long as it is what your bride wants.

Of course, there are a few things I might sneak in to make the outfit my own. But I have to keep those quiet . . .

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