The Bunting Bash: Flasks and Chieftains

I felt silly trying to write a post about the guys getting ready when I wasn’t even there. While I do have the pro photos to help fill in the visual story, for all I know the guys could have been discussing battle strategies for League of Legends. They weren’t (I hope.) So instead of trying to narrate the photos myself, I’m handing the reins over to Mr. Bunting so he can do the honor:

So, I hear that you all want to know what went down with the guys prior to the big event of the day. Let me fill you in the best I can. Honestly, between the extreme level of anxiety and a flask being passed, I’m sure I’m forgetting some details.

Anyhow, we were sent to the ~~dog house, backyard,~~ guest cottage. The guest cottage, from here on named the Man Cave, was quite a sight to behold. Earlier in the week, Mrs. Bunting had told me where the boys were getting ready and described the guest cottage as being cute and western-themed. So my preconceived notion was that there might be some animal pelts, maybe a mounted deer head, and some old guns on the wall. My initial image was partly correct… those pieces were there, however, they were only just a minute piece of the décor.

As we walked in, I think each guy had the same reaction: whoa. The place was filled with every and any cowboy- and western-themed flare, trinket, and doo-dad. There were barstools with saddles atop, a bear skin rug, a mechanized cowgirl that sang and danced to some ridiculous country song, old oil and candle lanterns, a bed frame with a headboard made from a wagon wheel, and a life-size Native American mannequin dressed in full garb (that Mrs. Bunting later named Chief TomaHank). To say the least, I don’t think anyone could have picked a better location for a bunch of guys to get ready. I mean, can you think of anything more manly than a little cottage filled with guns, dead animal skins, and a Coors Light neon sign?

There also was a lot of nervousness. Alright, it was probably just me that was nervous, but my guys did an excellent job helping me keep my cool. Of my five guys, three were already married; one was getting married in a couple of months, and my brother, well, eventually I’m sure. So the fact that these guys had survived gave me hope (just kidding, please just ignore that part, Mrs. Bunting). Food and a little encouragement from the flask also helped tremendously.

So, after extensively examining each little piece of western nostalgia, we started to settle in. Soon after, the food and attire were brought over from the girl headquarters and we promptly dove into it. Now I don’t remember all of the food, but I do remember the sandwiches being delightful. After getting our share of sandwiches and other deliciously manly food items alike, we proceeded to get ready for the big event.

Because the guys were dressed so similarly, there were a couple of mix ups on whose pants those were, or where someone’s other black sock went. Something happened to Brother Bunting’s clothing to the point where he was absent for a good amount of time. Despite all of this, we all managed to get properly dressed, though as you can see from the pictures, I did and still do need help with my tie.

Fortunately every other guy (except me) knew how to properly tie a tie. My excuse was that I was too nervous to remember and I stick with that to this day.

And then came the wedding gift debacle. Prior to the big day, Mrs. Bunting had told me that on the day of our wedding, we should write a note to each other like we did in high school. I agreed with this, as I always enjoyed writing notes to her, yet despite my best interest… I forgot. And so, when I saw her maid of honor walking up to the Man Cave, my heart dropped. Immediately, a thousand possible outcomes ran through my mind. I would be laughed out of the wedding because I forgot. She wouldn’t want to get married because I wasn’t responsible enough to write her a simple note on our wedding day. I ran away to hide from the guilt.