A Breakdown Of This Week’s Most Insufferable New York Times Marriage Announcement

======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====

I don’t often start columns with Nickelback quotes, but sometimes it just feels right.

It’s been a while, everyone. Specifically, it’s been since December that we’ve seen an insufferable New York Times marriage announcement breakdown. It’s not that I’ve been lazy or ignorant to what’s been going up – it’s that they just haven’t been that insufferable lately.

But it’s wedding season, and boy, are these announcements going to start getting good.

Stirring the Chemistry With a Kiss

Sarah Margaret Spivey and Garrett Leroy Faulkner were married April 15 at the Sacred Heart Cultural Center in Augusta, Ga. Courtney Petrouski, a friend of the couple who became a Universal Life minister for the event, officiated.

I know it was Easter and all, but not a fan of Sunday weddings no matter the circumstances. Weddings are to be held on Saturdays and Saturdays only. The only circumstance where this might be passable is over a long weekend – your Memorial and Labor Days – but even then, you’re an asshole for making people spend their long weekends traveling to see you tie the knot.

Furthermore, did these two really submit their marriage announcement early so they could have it published on the day they got married? Woof.

Mrs. Spivey-Faulkner, who is 29 and known as Maggie, is a Ph.D. candidate in anthropology at Washington University in St. Louis, where she also received a master’s degree in that subject. Her work examines the behavior of hunter-gatherer groups in the American Southeast. In July, she will begin a postdoctoral appointment as a junior fellow in the Harvard Society of Fellows in Cambridge, Mass.

Say it with me now: “It wouldn’t be a New York Times marriage announcement if they didn’t go to Ivy League schools.” Like, we get it, Maggie, you’re rich and smart.

And if I’m being completely honest, I’ve never really understood what majoring in “anthropology” does for anyone. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a store where you buy bedding and scented candles, and I still have no idea why or how I got on their mailing list. Do hunter-gatherer groups in the American Southwest really need their behavior studied? These people are trying to stay off the grid and live off the land and we’ve got people paying $65,000 in tuition solely so they can go out there and fuck with their peace.

She graduated cum laude from Harvard.

La ti da, Maggie. Telling people you graduated cum laude is like putting a 5K sticker on your car. Only dorkier and slightly more impressive.

She is the daughter of Tina S. Spivey and William O. Spivey III of Hephzibah, Ga. The bride’s father is a manager of materials management for the Medical College of Georgia at Augusta University. Her mother is a retired instrumentation technician for DSM Chemicals in Augusta.

I don’t think The New York Times has ever written a marriage announcement where the subjects weren’t descendants of someone with a name littered in Roman numerals. And as someone with Roman numerals in their name, I can’t wait to submit my future wedding announcement to The New York Times in hopes that they’ll ironically post it as a ‘thank you’ for all the pageviews I’ve gifted them.

Mr. Faulkner, 31, is a development manager with Advisory Board Consulting. He writes proposals and contracts for health care consulting projects.

There’s a 1,000% percent chance that the CEO of Advisory Board Consulting solely named it that because the initials are ABC. You don’t just name your company something that generic without some meaning behind it. Would love to see his secret society’s email chain where this got hashed out. So many dudes with “MBA” in their email sigs.

He graduated cum laude from Vanderbilt and received a master’s degree in creative writing from the University of Arizona. He is a son of Peggy R. Faulkner and David P. Faulkner of Park City, Utah. The groom’s father is the executive vice president for sales and marketing at Cimetrix, a software development and implementation company in Salt Lake City, where his mother retired as an accounting controller.

What was the conversation like when he told his dad that he wanted to go to Arizona to get is master’s in creative fucking writing? I’d tell my kid to move to Brooklyn and learn Blogspot like every other kid out there hoping to be the next William Faulkner. Honestly, he’s probably a great-grandson of William Faulkner or something and used that to go to Vanderbilt, the Ivy of The South.

Ms. Spivey and Mr. Faulkner met in 2008 at a Halloween party in Washington. Everyone was dressed as a character from the “Toy Story” movie, except for Ms. Spivey, who was dressed as the auto racer Juan Pablo Montoya.

2008? 2008? That was, like, light years ago. Way to pull the trigger there, Garrett.

But let’s not stray away from the important question here: why in the hell did she dress like Juan Pablo Montoya when everyone was dressed like Buzz Lightyear and Woody? Is she that big of an F1 fan or did her father, William O. Spivey III, win Montoya’s gear at a Sotheby’s auction? I almost respect the move because F1 is the most luxurious sport one can possibly be a fan of, but come on. Halloween isn’t the time to peacock how cultured you are when everyone else is running around dressed as damn Pixar characters.

“I thought she was pretty and a lot of fun, and I was drawn to her Southern charm,” said Mr. Faulkner, who was dressed as the boy Sid, the antagonist from “Toy Story,” flirting with Ms. Spivey in ballooning jeans and a mouthful of tinfoil (to simulate braces).

I think dressing up for Halloween parties after the age of, like, 13 is absurd so to go full-tinfoil mouth is just a preposterous move for someone who graduated cum laude from Vandy. You never go full-tinfoil, everyone knows that.

“There was certainly a mutual attraction there,” she said. “But at that time, we were both still entangled in declining college relationships.”

Okay. Nevermind. Going full-tinfoil is way better than being the girl who’s attracted to the dude who went full-tinfoil.

We’ve seen it time and time again in these marriage announcements, but there’s always 1. other people involved with the couples and 2. huge periods of travel time between when they meet and when they get married. And by “travel time,” I mean “sexing on the low out of the country.”

They became friends, but everything changed six months later at a Kentucky Derby party, where Ms. Spivey, now unattached, had gone to great lengths to get Mr. Faulkner to notice her.

Couples that Kentucky Derby together, stay together. That is, until one of them has too many juleps because they taste like candy and a shout argument ensues while both of them wear Lilly Pulitzer.

“I’m from Georgia, and I loved hanging around the grill watching him make Southern treats like shoulder-pork and teaching him how to make my family’s secret barbecue sauce,” she said. “I was flirting really hard, but all he kept giving me were these longing looks.”

Wow, Maggie, you’re just going to sell your family out like that and show your ‘secret’ recipe for some random dude at a Derby party who you last saw with a mouth full of tinfoil imitating a children’s movie character? Watch Band of Brothers for me one time, Mags.

Knowing he was available as well, she heated things up with an unexpected kiss on Mr. Faulkner’s lips.

[Foil not included.]

“I really didn’t see it coming,” he said.

*puts hands over mouth trying not to make a ‘come’ joke*

They began dating, though each of them saw what was coming next.

Oh my God, New York Times, why are you doing this to me? Use a different word for me just once.

“I was heading to graduate school in St. Louis,” Ms. Spivey said, “and neither of us were willing to commit to a long-distance relationship.”

And by “neither of us,” she means “Garrett” because Garrett was going to Arizona where the air is dry and the ladies are – okay, I’ll stop.

They went back to being friends, staying in occasional touch over the next four years until a Skype encounter initiated by Mr. Faulkner, who insisted that Ms. Spivey check out what he referred to as his “Tom Selleck-style mustache,” rekindled things.

You know the drill with mustaches, Garrett. Guys love them, women hate them. Amateur move, Garrett.

But more importantly, Skype? Really? That’s what these two are doing instead of iPhones? I know they met like 15 years ago so maybe that technology didn’t exist then, but come on. Skype is for foreign freelancers and cam girls.

In February 2012 Ms. Spivey visited Mr. Faulkner in Tucson, where he was studying for his master’s degree. That fall, she moved to Tucson and stayed with him until spring 2013, before moving back to St. Louis.

Garrett, out loud: “Yeah, babe, totally move to Tucson and live with me!”

Garrett, internally: “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckitty fuck fuck.”

“We’ve been an item since,” Mr. Faulkner said.

An item? What? Did you guys neck too? Glad you’re going steady, you magna cum nerds.

In March 2015, Ms. Spivey’s fieldwork took her to Florida, where she conducted research for the Florida Museum of Natural History. This time, Mr. Faulkner went along with her, and they lived near Lochloosa Lake in a tiny camper that Ms. Spivey said was “smushed up against a gator-infested swamp, 100 yards from some incredibly loud trains that roared across the tracks there. ”

What was she studying this time? The mating habits of swampland Floridian trailer trash? Just get a normal job and stop pretending that you’re saving the world, Maggie.

They left in December 2015 when Ms. Spivey returned to Washington University to teach for a semester. The next month, Mr. Faulkner took a job in Nashville, and Ms. Spivey soon followed him there.

Garrett, out loud: “Yeah, babe, totally move to Nashville and live with me!”

Garrett, internally: “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckitty fuck fuck.”

“After so much moving around, it’s nice to sit together now and watch the sunset over Nashville’s skyline,” Ms. Spivey said.

Still can’t believe you psychos got married on a Sunday. .

[via The New York Times]

23

Respond

Email this to a friend

Hey, I saw this on Post Grad Problems. Check it out.

Will

Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.

• @willdefries
• @willdefries
• defriewf
• will@grandex.co