It's a tale as old as time: Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl's father's permission to marry her, then plans a big public proposal to surprise the girl herself (she's probably been waiting on him for ages). He slips a shiny diamond ring on her finger, and now she can finally start looking for the white dress she's been dreaming of her entire life. The couple picks out their bridesmaids and groomsmen, who help plan the bachelorette and bachelor parties, and throw a shower for the bride.
Fancy invitations go out to friends and relatives to witness the big day. The bride in particular is surrounded by her closest circle as she gets ready, and soon she's walking down the aisle with her father, bouquet in hand, veil trailing behind her. The groom sees her for the first time that day as she approaches, then the officiant begin the ceremony, and leads the couple in their vows. All the while, a photographer circles around them, making the 4- to 5-figure investment just in the documenting of this event worth while.
As they are announced man and wife, the guests can now have what they really came here for - the party. The reception celebrates the new marriage, including a first dance, cutting of the cake, and highlighting their single friends by tossing the bouquet and garter. As the night winds down, they're sent off to their honeymoon in a big farewell. The bride is now Mrs. HisName, which of course she's been practicing writing since the day they met. As soon as she gets home, she'll send her fancy dress off to the cleaners to be preserved, until a hypothetical daughter wears it in the future.
In other words, weddings are stupid. So why'd I even get married?