Today I’m recovering. Recovering from the blessed union of my best friend to her husband. It was a very short dating relationship, and an even shorter engagement. A whirlwind love that could only happen as mysteriously as God intended it to.
As the day progressed, we all were pretty chill. Things were happening on schedule and nothing was rushed. We talked and enjoyed each other in the preparation room. All of us Bridesmaids feeling lovely with our hair, nails, and makeup complete. It was precious. Joys and laughter shared. Lots of hugs. Tons of hydration prior to the heat of stage lights. Things went perfectly.
My introverted self was crumbling away by the time pictures began. Too many people. Too much stimulation. I was tired. So tired that I placed myself in the couch in the preparation room with a plate piled as much as I could pile it of BBQ weenies. I ate my feelings that afternoon. Even polished off the last doughnut from breakfast. By the time we finished taking pictures at the beach I was ready to crawl out of my own skin. I was tired. Overwhelmingly tired. Like I was tearing apart at the seams. Unraveling and poured out.
After my speech at the reception hall I bummed a cigarette off one of the Bridesmaids and went out to have a smoke. I don’t even smoke, but I was desperate for the excuse to leave. As I puffed away at the menthol I contemplated my day. I processed every emotion, relived all the laughter, and dashed away every fear I had for their marriage. They would be fine.
As I puffed away, I watched them sneak out and into the car to drive off. Twenty plus years being virgins and now they could give that away to each other. I chuckled and smiled. How cute and sweet it would be for them. To finally have the intimacy they long waited for with the human being they were searching for all their lives. How glad I was that I too would wait as they did.
When I got back to my apartment, I sent my boyfriend the messages I couldn’t send because of lack of service at the venue. I climbed painfully up the steps to the third floor, peeled off my clothes once inside, and collapsed into bed.