It's going to be just me, the love of my life and the people dearest to us.
So much food and drinks, a horde of picture-perfect ladies with magazine-cover-worthy makeup, yuppy mummies with antenna headgears and expensive lace fabrics… of course you know how this works.
Nigerian weddings are turnt in a manner that only other Nigerian weddings can outdo.
As fantastic as these weddings are, they are obviously not for everyone. Certainly not for me.
Not the numerous people, the mind-boggling amount of food that’d be needed to feed them and of course not the cost that’ll be incurred getting a hall, paying vendors and generally planning the normal Nigerian wedding, no matter how small.
When it comes to my wedding, I’m sorry no one should expect any of all that. All I want is 25 people. Not more, not less.
And why would I be doing that you wonder?
First things first, variety is the spice of life. Not everyone is meant to have the same kind of wedding.
Does it not get tiring seeing the same wedding process being repeated with only tiny tweaks every once in a while?
Church/Mosque, reception, and in recent times, an after party.
Same thing at Sade’s wedding, at Tiwa’s wedding, at Halima's, Toke’s, Fade’s, Bisi’s, Uchenna’s and on and on like that.
It’s a rinse and repeat, predictable kind of thing.
Do all weddings have to be in church with loads of people and at a cost that’ll leave you crippled after that Saturday? Obviously this is for those who can’t afford these weddings but want to conform to society’s idea of a Nigerian wedding.
Come on guys, no one is going to die if you don’t invite your aunt who last saw you when you were wearing diapers or that cousin who you haven’t spoken to in five years!
The more I think about having an uncharacteristically small Nigerian wedding, the more appealing the idea seems.
No fuss, no headache, no stress, no heartache. One where I won’t ever have to worry that my guests, many of whom I do not know or have a close relationship with, haven’t been fed.
I want the type of wedding where there won’t be that woman who hides all the meat she’s supposed to serve to guests.
I want a wedding where there won’t be uninvited guests who show up with their plenty kids, invite other people to tag along and end up eating food that was meant for people that were actually invited!
What’s worse, many guests at Nigerian weddings can hardly ever be satisfied.
No matter how many cows you kill and how much food you make available at the ceremony, there’ll likely still be people who would leave grumbling and disgruntled because ‘you invited them did not make enough food at your wedding.
I also do not want to be worried about the safety of the numerous people who would need to travel en-masse, back and forth from my village because ‘we invited them to a wedding in Lagos.'
The major point here is not to limit the number of guests to celebrate that big day with me and baby boo, but to actually show that every Nigerian wedding does not have to be in a church/mosque.
All Naija weddings also do not have follow the same tired format we’re all used to.
All weddings don’t have to involve neighbours and family members you don’t give a damn about and who obviously don’t give a damn about you either.
Nothing will happen if you have just a court wedding and go with your partner to your priest for marital blessings!
All you need is a cooperative Pastor or Imam, few witnesses – your family members would do here – and you’re good to get God’s blessings and a church-stamped marriage certificate!
I think the point is clear enough. The idea that a Nigerian wedding has to follow the rules we’re all used to has to be scrapped.
Those who love and can afford the whole party paroles can stick with that.
Matter of fact, I wouldn't want those lit AF Yoruba weddings going anywhere at all. Never!
My love for firewood jollof and small chops won't make me advocate such madness.
My wedding will surely be done in one of these unusual fashions. That is pretty certain.
All that‘s left for me now is to get a Nigerian sweetheart who sees things in a similar light, and to also convince my Yoruba parents and hers that their numerous friends, church members, secondary school seat mates, members of their 1972 Girls' Guide group and every member of their extended families will not be attending our wedding.
I'm not particularly looking forward to that difficult conversation, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, innit?