Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

I guess the first mistake I made was smashing a piece of cake into my fiancée’s face at our rehearsal dinner.

“What?” I said.  “I thought we were rehearsing for tomorrow.  Aren’t the bride and groom supposed to do that with the wedding cake?  Come on, it’s funny!”

The second mistake I made was showing up to the ceremony wearing a tie featuring my favourite football team’s logo.  Personally, I don’t see what the big deal was.  After all, her bridesmaids were dressed in enormous shiny pink taffeta ball gowns.  The fact that I even know what taffeta is deserves an award, like being able to wear whatever the fuck I want.  It was my wedding too!

The third mistake I made was messing up our vows.  In my defense, I was a bit drunk at the time.  Oh wait, being drunk would likely qualify as my third mistake, wouldn’t it?  So messing up my vows would have been my fourth.  But it’s not as if I was totally wasted.  I just had a slight buzz, the kind of buzz one needs to get through what’s supposed to be the most romantic day of your life but is actually – since I’m being honest here – the most exhausting and stressful day of your life.

I thought that the vows were going to be the easy part of the whole shebang.  It’s not as if I had to memorize them beforehand.  I just had to repeat whatever the minister said, plus we had practiced them the night before so what could go wrong?  It turns out, lots.  A bit of advice: saying, “I, Jeffrey take you, Natalie” is a big no-no…when the person you’re marrying isn’t named Natalie.

“What did you just say?” my bride asked one second after I had called her by the wrong name.  “You called me Natalie.”

“I did?  Weird.  Let me start again.  I, Jeffrey take you, Natalie…”

“You did it again!” my bride shouted.

It got real quiet in the church then.  The people that had been playing on their phones up to that point suddenly wanted to pay attention.  Kids that were fidgeting had enough insight to know that it was now time to sit still and watch the grownup shit show going down before their eyes. Even one of the bridesmaids – what was her name?  The one who’s bitter because she’s always the bridesmaid and never the bride…she turned off the waterworks of envy and just stood there with a ‘Maybe I am better off being a spinster’ smile on her face.  The only sound to be heard came from a woman at the back of the church who was attempting to make an exit without being noticed.

“Excuse me.  Pardon me.  Terribly sorry,” she whispered as best she could while trying to squeeze past those blocking her path to the end of the pew.

“Oh my God, you didn’t?” my bride then said.  “You invited your ex-girlfriend to our wedding?!  I knew you were still in love with her, I just knew it!  Mom…Dad, take me home.  This wedding is off!”

“Natalie, wait!” I shouted as my intended started charging down the aisle.

Both women stopped, unsure of whom I actually meant.   I was unsure myself, quite frankly.  Natalie had dumped me ages ago and I thought I had moved on with Celine (I can remember her name clear as a bell now that it’s too late), but I guess I hadn’t.  Before I had a chance to clarify, Celine’s dad (one Arnold Turner, father of Celine Marie Turner, born April 18, 1990…oh yeah, it’s all clear to me now) punched me straight between the eyes.

I’ll tell you this: that punch literally knocked some sense into me.  When I came to, I realized how much I still loved Natalie, and she said she felt the same way.  So I guess all of those so-called mistakes I made was just my way of making things right between Natalie and me.  Mind you, I’ll never make things right with Celine, but she’s better off finding a guy who would appreciate shiny pink taffeta ball gowns at his wedding, don’t you think?


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