A Man's Job

If you think of the groom as the guy who checks out during wedding preparations, meet Mike Minteer

LESS THAN FIVE HOURS BEFORE HIS WEDDING, Mike Minteer, 36, is eyeing Salon III of the Crystal Gateway Marriott in Arlington with open distrust. Three of the hotel's event workers are busily vacuuming up debris from the wedding reception that took place here the night before. On this Saturday in May, Mike will marry Rita Fernando, 34, his girlfriend of four years, at St. Matthew's Cathedral in Washington. Their reception for 150 friends and family members, which Mike has spent the last year planning, will follow here. Mike wants everything to be perfect.

With his cherubic, clean-shaven face and close-cropped hair, Mike could easily be mistaken for a Boy Scout. But his voice, incongruously low and serious, commands attention. Mike sees his wedding planner, Jeannelle Muhammad, a petite woman wearing dark skinny jeans and a tailored black jacket. He gives her a quick hug and begins to interrogate her, not unlike Donald Trump does contestants on "The Apprentice." Where will the pair of ice swans be placed? The chocolate fountain? What about the screen for the video montage? When will the dance floor be assembled? He even wants to double-check the heights of the pillar candles that will adorn the head table.

"They're four [inches], six, four?" he asks, hands on hips.

Jeannelle flips through a sizable white binder. "Three, six, three," she clarifies. But Mike has already moved on. Where's the technician to install the 18 Victoria's Secret-pink and electric-blue accent lights he's chosen?

Playfully, Jeannelle grabs the sleeve of Mike's pressed mauve shirt. It's the same shirt he's wearing in the large framed photo of himself and Rita set on an easel outside the meeting room's doors. But in the photo, Mike looks happy and relaxed.

"Deep breaths, darling. Deep breaths!" Jeannelle suggests, only half-joking.

Mike gives her a sheepish smile. "So, should I get out of your hair?"

"Go home! Relax!" Jeannelle urges.

Mike agrees, but his eyes continue to dart around the room. There's so much to do to transform it into the breath-taking "fantasy wonderland" he's envisioned -- and so much that could go wrong. A box of linen tablecloths being unpacked across the room suddenly catches his attention.

He squints. "Do those look ivory to you?" he asks.

FOR BETTER OR WORSE, CHOOSING AND COORDINATING THE EXHAUSTINGLY SPECIFIC DETAILS OF A WEDDING TYPICALLY FALLS TO THE BRIDE. It's "her" day, after all, and reality-TV shows such as "Bridezillas" reinforce the message that it's a female rite of passage to fret over everything from pew decorations to whether a great-aunt will become tipsy and fall into the cake. The groom, on the other hand, usually stays on the edge of the fray, informed only on a need-to-know basis.

But for the past year, Mike, a loan officer for Fidelity & Trust Mortgage who lives in Woodbridge, has taken on the traditional bride's role himself. Although his fiancee has accompanied him to vendor meetings and given her final approval on everything from the invitation font to the Thai noodle soup to be served at tonight's five-course dinner, Mike has made most of the decisions. He has spent hours at his computer searching for music to accompany Rita's walk down the aisle; planned elaborate, three-foot-high floral centerpieces for the reception; and bought nearly $300 worth of unscented, ivory votive candles to cast a romantic glow over the tables at dinner. When he and Rita began a six-week crash course at a nearby Arthur Murray dance studio, Mike showed up with notes he'd taken while watching "Dancing With the Stars." (Their four-minute-long first dance has been carefully choreographed to the pop country song "Amazed.") Although he'd originally budgeted $40,000 for the wedding (with Rita's parents kicking in $10,000 of that), the temptation to do it up by adding extra cantors at the church and elaborate lighting at the reception, not to mention a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, have brought the grand total closer to $60,000. But Mike says he's not concerned. For the past year, he's set aside a portion of his commission-based salary to cover these costs. Instead of running up his credit cards, he says, he's managed to pay from his checking and savings accounts.