Currently on the way back from a Nashville bachelorette trip for a bride I adore but letβs be honest, she couldnβt make a decision to save her life. The trip was planned (loosely) by her sister, who is equally indecisive, and chaperoned by their momβ¦ who passed that trait down like a family heirloom. Day one, we spent a solid three hours wandering around a sketchy part of Nashville, and I could see the bride slowly spiraling. Her dream bachelorette trip was not bacheloretting.
Up to that point, Iβd kept my mouth shut. I was there to go with the flow, let the bride and her sister steer the ship as I went into the trip with full trust they knew what they were doing. But then I remembered: they donβt steer. They donβt plan. They donβt even Google.
So I did a little digging and realized all her Pinterest inspiration pics were from Honky Tonk Highway. Cue my casual suggestion: βHey, I could go for some live country music.β (Lie. I donβt like country. But the bride LOVES it.) We finally made it there and her face lit up like the neon signsβ¦ only to walk around that area for another hour because no one could decide which bar to go into.
Another quick search. βOh hey, this place has flatbread I could eat.β(Another lie. I wasnβt hungry. But she loves flatbread and she always forgets to eat before drinking.)
We ate, had a few drinks, and wanted to hang out but she didnβt know where to go next. So I tried again: βWait, this barβs owned by a country star! How cool is that?β (Not cool to me. I donβt even know who he is. But the bride? My best friend since childhood? She was into it.)
A few drinks in, the bride makes her first real decision of the day: she wants to dance. But itβs still early and if college taught me anything, itβs that the good dance floors donβt fill up until later. So I Googled the best spots. βWaitβ¦ is that Morgan Wallenβs bar? I bet that place gets crazy. Letβs grab a table and see what happens.βand Google, once again, did not fail me. It was a blast. We were the first ones there but I made sure to be the first to start the dancing off with the bride.
The next two days? Pretty much the same pattern. If I wasnβt walking in front, weβd justβ¦ stop. Like, full standstill in the middle of the sidewalk until someone (me) moved. Asking βDo you want to go here or there?β led to minutes of panicked silence and no progress.
Eventually, I realized the only way to get anything done was to gently take over: suggest a plan in a chill tone and say it like it was already happening. βHey, Iβm heading this way.β Boom. Motion.
I donβt like being leader but I somehow always end up as one in most aspects of my life. This does give me the edge of being a leader who aims to keep everyoneβs interest in mind and easily coordinates anotherβs suggestion, though. A Benevolent dictator as you say.
Moral of the story: decision fatigue is real. Bring a strategist to your bachelorette party. Bonus points if they hate country music but love the bride enough to pretend otherwise.
