How I Survived My Ex-boyfriend’s Wedding And Kept My Dignity Intact!

How I Survived My Ex-boyfriend’s Wedding And Kept My Dignity Intact!
He was my first real boyfriend -- the first boy I ever loved. The first boy I ever kissed. And he was getting married.

When he called me to tell me that he had gotten engaged, I was a little shell-shocked, but we were good friends, and so I tried to be happy for him.

It’s not that I wanted him. I didn’t. I just didn’t want him getting married before me. Having an ex-get married before you seem like you’ve lost some sort of contest. He’s a winner, you’re a loser. He’s destined for a lifetime of love and happiness, while you’re destined for a life of desperation and loneliness.

I was nearly 30 years old, and I was no closer to getting married than I was when I had first met my ex when we were 11.

I couldn’t say no to the wedding. I just couldn’t. We were friends, but more important than that, I had to show that I was okay. I had to show that none of this bothered me. I had to show that I was fabulous and happy with where I was in life. Even if I wasn’t.

Anyway, I was seeing someone, Josiah, and by the time the invitation arrived, we were a full-fledged couple. I said NO to the wedding knowing that I’d have a date with someone who adored me. I could attend and hold my head up high. Right?

Wrong. Two weeks before the wedding, the guy I was seeing made it clear that “full-fledged couple” was overstating things a bit. Actually, he didn’t want to see me anymore. At all.

As heartbroken and shocked as I was by the break-up, one thought stood out: What about my ex-boyfriend’s wedding?! There was no way in hell that I would be going alone.

The solution was clear: I needed a gorgeous stand-in for my ex to go to my other ex’s wedding. One week before the wedding, J. sent me a flirty email to tell me that he was excited about the wedding. So excited, in fact, that he’d told me he will attend the wedding.

I called my ex to tell him that we will be attending and he laughed out loud, saying that he couldn’t wait to meet J. Everything seemed to be finally working out. I’d be able to attend my ex-boyfriend’s wedding with my head held high, right?

Wrong! (Geez, aren’t you sensing the pattern here?!) I got hit with the next bombshell -- he was sleeping with one of the other women in our office, and she was furious that I was taking him to the wedding. Clearly, J. would not be making it that Saturday.

I did what any girl in my position would do: frantically called every single man in I knew. I decided that the best course of action would be to bring the best-looking man I could find. One sure way to bring my currency back up would be to have the hottest date.

And my date was hot. Striking in his nice suit, he was just a friend who, when I invited him to the wedding, later admitted that he’d had a crush on me. Things were looking up.

The night of the wedding, I put on my armor: hair and make-up professionally are done, the most expensive dress I owned, coupled with the most fabulous bag and shoes in my closet. I figured if I looked good enough on the outside, the inside part of me wouldn’t matter. The outside said: fabulous wardrobe and sexy date. The inside said: miserable and insecure.

The wedding was beautiful. Or at least I think it was. Truth is, my date and I got so drunk that I don’t remember much of it. (Party girl with a glass of champagne on the outside, unhappy girl drinking too much to escape her reality on the inside.) The only thing I really remember is a lot of making out with my date. A lot. (Did I mention how hot he was?) But the rest is sort of a blur.

I survived the wedding, but the next day still found myself single and alone. I was like Cinderella after the ball -- back where I started, but without any idea of what to do about it. My 30th birthday hung over my head, a painful reminder of all the things I thought I’d have accomplished by age 30, but hadn't. I’d been so focused on trying to find “the one” that I didn’t leave any time for myself, time to do the things I wanted to do.

Soon I stopped spending my days obsessing about the fact that I wasn’t married. That my ex-boyfriend had found love when I hadn’t. I felt less like a loser whose ex-boyfriend had gotten married before her.

I survived my ex-boyfriend’s wedding!
Leave a Comment
Previous Post Next Post