The Wedding Of My Dreams. My Worst Nightmare

E didn’t want anything to do in planning the wedding. My mom on the other hand… She wanted to be all up in there, whether I wanted it or not.

I’m a fairly easy going person. I don’t like to stir up trouble. And my mom was getting so excited about this whole wedding thing that I didn’t want to say no when she wanted to invite every last person she knew to the wedding. The list went on and on until I felt like it was her wedding with touches of me here and there. I had no support from E in trying to arrange things any differently. “She’s your mom” “Let her do it” were all the responses I got from him.

I didn’t realize until much later that E was scared of her.

My wedding day was nothing like I wanted it to be. Actually if I had to do it again I’d probably just elope and forgo all the hassle (Probably something I should’ve done this time, with someone different lol). From start to finish I hated it. Except my dress. I loved that thing. I could’ve lived a week straight in it and not complained once. Unfortunately I had to leave in Kenya, so it’s gone for good.

I spent the morning going to my friends to get my hair done. Then back at my house I did my own make up while alone. There was none of that “all the women gathered/photo op” stuff going on. The place was completely empty apart from myself. My bridesmaids arrived later on in the dresses they had picked out themselves. Black. Haha, that was my colour. Black. If that’s not foreshadowing I don’t know what is. It’s like they were dressing for my funeral and I didn’t even clue in.

Anyways. They showed up and we had a few pictures taken in my parents backyard. Then we headed off to see E.

I had chosen to have the wedding on a Friday night. I figured people wouldn’t want to waste a whole day on me, so we had planned for a quick ceremony at 6 ( I think, I don’t even remember now) followed right after by dinner in the same hotel. Wham bam done. Simple, easy. I already knew by now I didn’t want to make a big deal of the whole E+C thing, and had already become embarrassed to be with him in public, so the quicker we got it over and done with, the better.

Because there was no time in between the ceremony and reception, we chose to do our pictures first thing. No big deal. No big reveal. Just him seeing me and us doing our thing.

So my 2 bridesmaids and I drove to where E was staying at what would be our new house and that’s where he saw me for the first time on our wedding day.

“You look nice” is how I was greeted. Wow thanks hun. Way to really make a girl feel special.  I looked nice. But thinking back… E has never once called me beautiful. I’m not saying I should be in the movies or some model, but I don’t think I’m ugly. I guess average is the word I’m looking for. But on the other hand, I also think that if you love someone and you think they are the one for you, the one you’re choosing to marry… that you would find them attractive. Beautiful perhaps. And that maybe once in a while you would tell them just that, that they look beautiful. A great opportunity being on the wedding day. But, not the man I chose. Nope my picking skills are something else.

We did some pictures at the house and around town, then headed off for the ceremony. I can remember the most special part of that afternoon… the whole day, is when my shoe-strap became undone and E bent down to do it up for me. I specifically remember the most romantic thing he’s ever done was do up my shoe for me. First and only time he’d ever bent on one knee in front of me that’s for sure.

The ceremony was quick and simple. Not a wet eye in sight. Yep you heard that right.  Dry and emotionless. Like a lecture hall. Filled with 60+ of my parents closest friends. I was so glad when E and I walked back out down the aisle at the end. It meant that not so much attention would be on me and this sham.

Dinner was horrific. My MC hardly planned anything and it was just awful all around. People began leaving before 9 PM and I didn’t blame them at all. I’d have been outta there ASAP if it wasn’t my own wedding. We had rented a photo booth which was fun but other then that, nothing. E didn’t want to talk to anyone so it made for awkward conversations and you could just feel the tension.

I was embarrassed for my wedding.

Finally an appropriate amount of time had passed and we could make our exit. I swiped a bottle of wine off a table, told E I would be upstairs in our hotel room and asked if he needed anything. Nope, he’d be up in a minute.

Over an hour later E finally came up the stairs reeking of weed. Ok fine. You lit up a joint on your wedding night to ease the stress. I can get over that. But then when he was in the washroom, his phone rang with an unknown #. I answered it thinking it wasn’t a big deal, someone needed something or was calling to say congrats… maybe a family member from Kenya not realizing the time difference.

It was a big deal. It was his ex. His baby mama. The chick he’d just spent the last hour on the phone with. On our wedding night he left to get high and chill with another chick on the phone.

Needless to say I wasn’t in the mood for standard wedding night festivities. But E didn’t care. And that was just the first time he didn’t care. When he wanted it, he got it. Correction. He took it. My awful wedding day was topped off with rape.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t wear something borrowed and something blue….

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