During that Saturday morning while doing laundry, I thought long and hard about attending this wedding alone, per the original plan. I am a strong, independent woman who can hold her own. However, the mere thought of sitting through the wedding and reception alone, without someone to share the pain was unbearable. Try as hard as I might, if the bachelorette party was this bad, the actual wedding had no hope. Especially since this was to be a small, intimate wedding. The mother of the bride would be busy entertaining guests and I would be stuck alone with the bitchy girls from the night before. I decided it was better to have Montana Man there with me and so I asked him to join me when he called later in the day.
Clearly, my specifically asking him to join me was exactly what he sought because he started to protest a bit to induce me into asking a bit more. In order to get a rise out of me, Montana Man stated that he did not want to get dressed for the wedding and was going to wear jeans. Normally, I would have protested, however, I was thrilled he was going to suffer with me that I told him, “you can wear jeans, or a suit, or simply your underwear; I don’t care.” The plan was set; I would pick him up and then we’d whisk down to the clubhouse to endure the nuptials.
I also looked at my asking him to join me as step in cementing the friendship aspect of us. His escorting me was merely what one does for a friend. Our relationship ended long ago and I have been away for 1 ½ years, which has greatly changed me and any landscape we might have had. I was firm in my resolve that we would have nice time, enjoy a few cocktails, exchange knowing looks over the ridiculous, and the night would be over.
In all of this, the thought of my super secret holiday streaked across my mind. There would not be anyone I knew at this wedding besides the bride’s parents and they will be so busy, nervous, relieved that my holiday would not be mentioned. Besides, the day is all about the bride. Furthermore, Montana Man is not a popular character with the bride’s parents and I assumed they would be cautious and wondering why the hell he was with me. I rationalized it all away complete with crossing t’s and dotting i's.
Montana Man called late on Saturday evening but I was so dead to the world that my sleeping ears never heard the ringing. No message.
Sunday. The big day. As this was an evening wedding, I got to repack and go through the mail, knowing nothing else would get accomplished once I left the house. I tried on three dresses and decided to wear the Anne Klein chocolate brown dress. It was smart and not too flashy. Plus it is a size 8 which made me do cartwheels down the hall. Simple, classic.
Dressed and looking particularly good, I hopped in the car to wheel myself south toward the wedding. Montana Man called me along the way to explain the procedure when I reached the guard shack of his subdivision. Made it through the guard detail fine; however, I did get hopelessly lost trying to find his house. After many u-turns, dodging deer, and heightened blood pressure, Montana Man is waiting for me in his driveway with a glass of red wine in his hand. I climbed out of the car and he handed me the glass of wine, telling me, “I could hear it in your voice that you need this after your tour of the area.” I happily take the wine and take a hearty swallow of the red goodness. After a few sips, relaxation does come over me. We went inside his home and he proceeded to start a small home tour as I have not been here before. His backyard is spectacular and I was enthralled watching the deer munch on grass. I turned to him to tell him how beautiful it is and he cut me off saying how happy he was to see me. Montana Man looked at me with goofy, loving eyes then gave me a big hug and simultaneously grabbed my bum and tried to give me a kiss that I quickly turned into a cheek kiss.
As we stroll past the kitchen, Montana Man took the bottle of wine to pour himself a glass. He picked up the bottle and I noticed that the ¾ of the bottle is already gone. He also tops off my glass. We finished the main floor tour and our wine.
Time to head off to the wedding. I drove the 3 minutes to the golf course and got rock star parking. We strolled over to where the white chairs were set up on the lawn for the ceremony. There are 50 chairs total, the bride and groom’s side each being five chairs across and five chairs deep. There was hardly anyone present. It was 5:00 PM. The wedding begins at 5:00 PM.
Montana Man wanted to sit in the back row. I protested because there were so few people and the skeleton crew was all hiding in the back row already. I explained this wasn’t a class, but a wedding, so we must be near the front to celebrate. We took the seats in third row, the two closest to the aisle. The bride’s family sat in the first two rows. The maid of honor’s (bride’s sister) boyfriend, Idiot, sat directly in front of me in the second row. Idiot looked directly at me and then turned back around in his seat. I breathed a sigh of relief because I am not fond of him (as if you didn’t already figure that out by how I described him). It took him a few minutes to register who I was and then he turned right back around and said in a big, loud voice, “How was Argentina?!”
My heart stopped.
to be continued.....