Over the weekend, I flew out of town to be in a wedding I told you all about. It was…interesting to say the least.
I was worried that the entire weekend was just going to be coupley crap and that it was going to be non-alcoholic because years ago, the bride made mention that her bf (now fiance) thought she had a drinking problem. So, I was stewing about that and making plans to use my flask to make it through the weekend.
Turns out, the alcohol was the least of my worries. According to the other bridesmaids, the groom wanted to call off the wedding a few months ago, so the bride agreed to attend AA meetings to keep the show on. Fabulous!
Friday night actually wasn’t too bad. I spent 6 hours getting loaded at the airport, got a case of beer for my room, and by the time the rehearsal was happening, I was nice and toasted and was actually laughing at the fact that the groomsmen showed up high and in flip flops. Even the dinner and the lingerie shower was pretty fun.
I was beginning to feel great, I had misjudged this weekend and a small getaway was exactly what I needed.
And then Saturday happened.
When I met up with the bride, she was already pissed as the chapel had forgotten about our bridal luncheon. It was a perfect reason to be pissed, but not a reason to let it ruin your BIG day. We told her to calm down, the problem was solved, don’t freak out.
I AM NOT FREAKING OUT! I AM HAVING A NORMAL REACTION TO PROFESSIONALS NOT DOING THEIR JOB.
It was time for beer #2. We get in the car and the bride continues to stir, moving onto other subjects, like how much she hates the groom’s mom and how nervous she is and why are people calling her? Don’t they know it’s her wedding day?
This attitude continued throughout the luncheon, and throughout the afternoon, with special freak outs when the cake arrived 3 minutes late and when the hair and makeup artists were stuck in traffic. All of us were yelled at for not getting her water fast enough, not shutting the door to the suite, and not listening to her.
As the hours passed, the buzz from my 2 beers, 3 mimosas, and entire bottle of bubbly wore off, and my level of anxiety was quickly rising. There were so many people in the room, it was so loud, and oh-so-tense.
Around 6 pm, the bride sent one of us to the groom’s room to give him a love letter and a gift. Just a few minutes later, she returned, gift in hand. The groom had yet to arrive, with less than 1 hour before the wedding. Needless to say, the bride went on a marathon yelling session.
A few minutes later, her letter from him arrived, and the roller coaster was on an uptick: OH MAN IF YOU EVER GET MARRIED JUST TELL YOUR FIANCE TO WRITE YOU A LETTER BECAUSE I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER! HE ISN’T EVEN A GOOD WRITER! HIS PUNCTUATION IS HORRIBLE. DON’T I LOOK SO PRETTY? I FEEL SO CONFIDENT!
She got married, and I was for sure she’d be happy then. Oh, but no. She was tired of having her photo taken (!). She was also mad that no one was on the dance floor, and that those who were, wouldn’t make a soul train.
My breaking point came around hour 11 of Bridezilla 2012: the bouquet toss. I was mentally done being a bridesmaid, I just had one more hour to go. I went to the dance floor to make the monster happy, and she got in my face “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN” …I paused, took a swig of my beer, and realized that I’d spent about $800 to be yelled at.
“FUCKING EATING” I snapped back. And I turned and stood to pretend to catch the bouquet. Thankfully, I didn’t, and the bride apologized to us, saying she “had a moment” because no one was on the dance floor.
Um, a moment? How about 11 fucking hours of a moment where you treated 6 of your closest friends like pieces of trash? See ya never, bitch.