I Planned Their Wedding in an Hour. They Disappeared in Five Seconds

Ghosting and what the silence says about someone

By the time an inquiring couple receives a proposal from me, I already know what time the sun sets on their wedding day and I am so excited to get started planning.

We have talked for an hour about their wedding vision, their budget concerns, their strong feelings about chairs…..

I have taken notes, listened carefully. I have asked questions designed to uncover what they want their wedding to look like but also how they want it to feel.

We have discussed my planning process, what collaborative software I use so we can access everything from anywhere. We have looked at my design method, they have heard all about my wonderful, amazing team that truly cares about their wedding day.

After the call I do what all excellent planners do. I build their day in my head. I start thinking about movement of people and equipment across the venues. I consider how we have limited amounts of certain great vendors and I note that we need to get those vetted and booked a.s.a.p.. I put together a proposal that is not a price list but a working theory of how I am going to make their wedding dreams come true. Sometimes I spend over an hour putting this perfectly planned proposal together because I am considering what of my past photos would tickle their aesthetic fancy and make them say “Oh yes she the one!”

Then I send it.

I’ve already invested at least two hours.

This is the moment where things either progress or disappear altogether.

The couple doesn’t ghost beforehand. They are usually attentive and enthusiastic while we are talking. They know what my minimum is before they get on the call. They laugh and agree when I explain that weddings are essentially large experiments conducted in formalwear while herding cats. They thank me and ask for the proposal. They give every impression or people who will eventually reply to an email.

And yet, sometimes, they do not.

Days pass, my follow up is polite, professional and “just making sure you received my proposal” sweet.

Occasionally, a responsive does arrive. It thanks me for my proposal and asks if I can recommend someone less expensive. Like being asked to design a custom home then being asked if I know a good tent. It used to be a surprise when couples did this.

The question itself is not offensive. It is simply curious. By this point, I have already provided what I sell, experience and a highly trained sense of what is about to go wrong. The proposal is not a casual cookie cutter document. It is a process of the years spent watching timelines unravel and transportation companies misinterpret maps. The proposal is labor, quiet labor, thoughtful labor. The kind that looks like a PDF but behaves like a safety net.

I do not mind when couples choose someone else (most likely it’s for the better anyway) That is the way business works. After 22 years working for myself, I understand that. What gives me pause is the idea that silence is somehow a neutral ending.

A quick email is enough “We found a better fit” or” We are going to go in a different direction”. Even “This is outside our budget”. All of these are normal sentences. They close the door without slamming it and I am always happy to recommend someone less expensive.

Luxury it turns out, is not only about beautiful settings, interactive guest experiences and stunning linens. It is also about manners and respect when no contract has been signed. It’s about recognizing that time was given even if it wasn’t purchased.

When someone spends an hour plus, learning about someone’s story then builds a proposal around it the minimum courtesy is an answer. Even a short one.

In the present day (take this anyway you want) silence may feel ok but it is not weightless. It carries a message as well. In an industry built on gratitude, intention and celebration, it seems worth remembering that how we treat people before the wedding says something about how we intend to behave during it.