Dear Bride

Dear Bride

You’re wedding day turned out a success, despite the preceeding events.
The hurricane display outside didn’t go away, how ever much we prayed, and running you to the car with your dress above your head was not, as I imagine, how you dreamed you would assend your pumpkin.

I remember sitting in the back seat, squashed between the two other yellow dresses, as they were quickly creasing, feeling sad and sick as you looked out the window at the billowing trees. I know you were regretting chosing this date.

Your face as you stood, moments before walking down the isle was not the look of a joyful bride, but a little girl devastated that the dream was not as you had dreamed. Seeing Psyco ex-Bridesmaid driving into the city had not put your fears to rest, despite the army of men standing guard at the door, and your yet trail and frantic rush had created quite the stress. But I must say, as I watched you glide so gracefully down that isle, I knew you would be ok. It was all I could do not to cry the waterproof mascara off!

It was a shame we couldn’t have the fairy tale photos under the great oaks, and on the little bridge over the water, but those pictures on the grand stairwell of the hotel were beautiful, even if your smile was fake and I could see you heart breaking a little. Mine was breaking with yours. I wanted to make it better.

You had your heart set on a little retunder by the beach, so the three car motorcade set off for Balmoral. I have to admit, in hindsight this was the funniest moment of the whole day. Watching your new husband try to shield you from the torrents of rain and gail force winds, turning your umbrella inside out, made me smile a little, though I was very adamant on making sure I could deter as much rain from your hair as possible.

The three Bridesmaid’s and three Groomsmen, stood with our big white unbrella’s facing the billowing wind, protecting you and your new husband from the wind. I thought I would blow away like Mary Poppins. It was the first time I saw you smile. And by smile, I mean grin. We all stood there, our bodies postulated in protection from the wind, finally pissing ourselves laughing. I guess that was the point we all stopped caring that our curls had fallen out, and our dresses were saturated. It was a fun day, and you were surrounded by the most important people in your life, plus one photographer.

The reception past in a blur, perhaps it was just my thirst for the red wine. I remember the speeches, the love that encapsulated each persons words, the tears of the fathers, the heartfelt memories of your sister, and then your words, telling me how much our friendship meant to you. I was so blessed in that moment, and was thanking God again for waterproof mascara.

Bride, I’m so happy you married the Man that you did. The way he looks at you, speaks of you and loves you has reignited my hope in men, and I’m thrilled that I will know you two for the rest of my life!

When you left, I shed another little tear. I will miss you. I will miss our sleep overs, and being able to hold apart of you. I know you aren’t gone, but you are completely his now. And while I sound selfish, I mean that in the most gracious sense of the word.

I have a confession to make. I broke my three year Good-Girl fast. I had a little more to drink than usual, and threw sensibility away. Stupid Little Bridesmaid.

So the conclusion of your wedding, saw me with The Best Man, being cliché and drunk, making out under the canopy of the trees by the beach, with the weather finally at rest. Oh how embarrassing! I kept giggling, thinking how trashy and movie script ending this is. And I’m to ashamed to tell you. Perhaps in two weeks after your honeymoon I’ll confess the disgrace. I swore him to secrecy.

So now, Dear Bride, I find myself accidentally dating the Best Man. Oops!

And I quite possibly am not interested.

Bridesmaid From Hell

Perhaps I have a mental condition, but I actually looked forward to getting back to work today. I know. W.T.H!



I have decided I need to write about my wedding experiences, because they are the kind of stories you would find in the over-dramatised wedding movies. My family and friends often tell me my life is a little too much like 27 Dresses. In two weeks I'm a bridesmaid, again. I was one last year, and don't ever hear from the girl, and was asked to be one this year for a classmate I wouldn't even invite to my own wedding, so I declined. That wedding story is a whole other blog. People don't believe the story when I tell them.



So getting back to my intended story for this post. On Saturday The Bridesmaids hosted a lingerie and hen's for our Bride. Leading up there have been domestics, with A, the 3rd bridesmaid, deciding to call me and tell me that the sister/maid-of-honor and Mother of the Bride, didn't want to have a lingerie party, as it was so expensive and no one could afford it. A long story short, after A put The Bride through a day of tears because she thought everyone but me was against her, it turned out Sister and Mother knew nothing of this supposed conversation with A and were looking forward to the party. So after more domestics, we finally had the event, and it went perfectly! Everyone loved it, and the 3 bridesmaids for the first time ever, actually managed to get along. Later, at the resturant, A and the Bride got into a little fight. The Bride made a passing comment that A's partner was a little weird, which resulted in A storming out, and 45 minutes later calling The Sister, to tell her she would no longer be a bridesmaid. She then proceeded to message the Bride hideous, emotionally manipulative message saying she would destroy the bridesmaid dress, if she didn't go round and appologies by 11. It was her fricken hen's for goodness sake! We had nuddy runs and dares planned.

So round goes the Bride, trying to hold it together, and finds out that A has given the dress to a friend. End of story, A was completely unreasonable, even ignoring Mother of the Brides sinsere pleas for the return of the dress. The Bride had paid for them all and there was little chance of finding more.

The Bride spent the remainder of her Hen's Night curled up on her bed crying. I couldn't believe a person could do something so awful. A is still sending messages of hatred, as if she hasn't caused enough crap!

So the moral of the story...don't have bridesmaids....or don't have a wedding. Simply elope. The more I experience of this world, the more likely I am to get married on a beach, bare foot, with only me, my lover and a minister!



Friends are your bestfriends, till there not. Then their your worst enemy!