A New Year engagement in Tampa, and a happy (probably kinda drunk) couple begins the efforts to affix themselves to each other ‘Til Death. Well, what’s next?

The lady does all the work. That’s what.

A date is secured. Once that special numerical sequence is determined, a venue must be found that not only fits the Florida dream vision but also is available that one specific date. Wedding dress shopping commences, assuming she didn’t find the dress while she was still dreaming of this moment in high school, which will seem to last an eternity longer than the couples love. Once those three key marital elements are determined, everything else is determined in a vacuum of stress, chaos, and a man saying “whatever you want, dear” while he endures waves of nausea every time his credit card alert pings in his pocket.

And he has one responsibility that he procrastinates until the eleventh hour.

“Shit, tuxes.”

In his defense, he did have to wait until her dress, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the table runners, the curtains, the napkins, and her lipstick color was determined before the was allowed to even dream of what tuxedo she would inevitably have to approve for him and his friends - plus that one guy he begrudgingly had to invite to be a groomsman - to wear on her day.

No matter how long he waited to rent his tuxedo, he’s safe with the ol’ tux shop. Whether he’s flying back to Tampa the day before or waking up the morning of, Bib ‘N Tux has bailed countless grooms-to-be out of their procrastinatory jams. Over. And over. And over.