Summer has got to be the worst season possible to call off a wedding. Every single news website is running some story about how to buy your wedding dress, pick your bridesmaids, buy cheap gifts, or “make your marriage last.” The Borders bargain books table is clogged with wedding guides and albums. Walking downtown on the weekend is hazardous, because in every outdoor hotel garden, people are cheering the happy gowned and tuxedoed couple clasping hands under a floral arch. So many of my friends have been summer brides that I just assume I’ll see them all in the fall because they have anniversary trips and dinners planned seemingly every week and I can’t keep up with who will be where and when.
The morning in line for my breakfast coffee, I ran into the cute married couple who works in my building. He’s a polite and intelligent guy, a sharp dresser who defers to her whims. She is perfectly coiffed and mani-pedicured, her outfits carefully coordinated, and always careful to say hello to every single staff member and ask about their families. And this morning in line for breakfast, she looked up at him and I wanted to burst into tears. Because that look- well, that look said we’re in this together. And the smile said, I’m glad we are. And she looked at him like he had invented the idea of breakfast. And he wrapped his arm around her waist and grabbed both their trays.
It was just too much before eight a.m. Because the part of me that keeps nagging in the back of my head hoping this is all a bad dream knows better. Because I know that look- I used to give it myself. Because other people’s happiness sucks right now. Because I can’t imagine walking down the aisle with someone I couldn’t look at like that. And there’s this part of me right now that wonders if all of that is even real. Because if anyone knew the ex and me, they would’ve said we were going to make it. Forever. In fact, the minister had said she felt good about our wedding, because she marries so many couples that she’s not sure are going to make it- unlike us.
BC is out of town this weekend with his boyfriend, which leaves me in the house for a three day weekend with my thoughts. I’m invited to a cookout, but it’s at the home of the other most happily married couple I know. And even when things were good between me and the ex, it was hard to see how happy KT and her husband are all the time. Not sure if I can stomach it this week.
And even I am sick of all of it, but I feel bipolar- completely sped up and productive, cleaning his stuff out and stacking it out of sight until he comes to get it, then crashing and going to bed at 8 pm like I did last night and barely making it out the door this morning. I had two days where I looked impeccable walking out the door (to spite him) and three where I looked like I had never seen a shower, a lick of makeup, the sun, or an iron. Today is an in-between day- the hair is a greaseball bun, but I have on makeup and a dress and heels (which don’t exactly match…).
The “I love you” post-its fell in the night, so they are scattered all over the floor like snow. I need to throw them away. I just can’t seem to do it right now.