Knot Cheap

My wedding this coming Saturday was supposed to be done on the cheap. No DJ, no photographer, no caterer. Just the people we love, a nice meal, and a wonderful day. Everyone thought it was a great idea. At first.

My mom was the first to defect. "You've got to have dancing," she declared, just two weeks after expressing support for the no-frills idea. "I have to be able to dance with my son at his wedding." When Belzie, my fiancee, came home soon after and announced that she had purchased a $750 dress, I could see my dream of a miser's wedding disappearing. One by one, items once considered superfluous became essential. Formal invitations really were important, Belzie decided. Digital pictures taken by our guests wouldn't do, everybody but me came to understand.

Belzie is no girlie-girl, but she goes on kicks, and wedding planning became her new obsession. Bridal magazines began to appear in the mail, and the UPS man delivered mysterious packages to our door. When Belzie got home, she would say things like, "Ooh, our centerpieces are here!"

"We have centerpieces?" I would reply.

It's not that I'm cheap (well, OK, maybe a little). But we love to travel and hope to buy a condo. To me, hundreds of dollars spent on a wedding photographer or cake represented a plane ticket to somewhere exotic or a chunk of our down payment for a home. Belzie isn't a spendthrift, either. She scoured the Internet for hours, searching for college students who would photograph us or play our processional music "just to get the experience." They didn't exist.

Even our plan to save money by holding the ceremony in the Public Garden backfired. Sure, we were spared the fee of a church rental, but we soon realized that having no building also meant having no bathrooms and no dressing room for the bridal party. We reluctantly booked an expensive hotel near the park for two nights.

As our notion of an "affordable" wedding evolved, so did our definition of a "small" wedding. We originally envisioned 15 or 20 people - just our closest friends and family who lived within driving distance. Now people are flying in from Tennessee, California, Texas, Iowa, and even Brazil. Our guest list, which includes a few people I've never met, stands at about 45. It's a good thing, too, because the restaurant we chose for its private dancing space requires a $2,000 minimum food purchase. I can count the number of $45 meals Belzie and I have eaten in our lives on one hand. But we volunteered to buy a bunch more on one day, sight unseen, simply because the restaurant looks nice and is within walking distance of the park.

I should mention here that our parents are generously paying about half the total cost of the wedding. Knowing that I'm only footing a portion of each pricey purchase has definitely helped soften the blows. It's also made it harder to protest. What kind of cheapskate won't pitch in for a fancy restaurant when others are subsidizing the cost?

I have held my ground on some important fronts, though. Instead of a sweaty cummerbund-clad DJ, it will be my little brother who announces our first dance and then clicks "play" on my iPod. Instead of bringing our own cake into the restaurant and paying a $2-per-person "plating fee," we're opting for the creme brulee that's included with the meal.

And everyone will bear the brunt of one of our largest concessions: We're having a cash bar.

The average American wedding costs between $15,000 and $30,000, depending on who you believe. Ours will come in under $10,000, so we've done all right. Still, it's a far cry from the American Legion potluck I had in mind when I first brought up the idea of an inexpensive wedding. At least we should have enough dough left over to comfortably pay for our spring honeymoon in Europe, which is one expense Belzie won't have to talk me into.

Calvin Hennick lives in Brighton. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.