Friends with Exes

You know that period after a breakup, where you fantasize about various situations where you run into your ex, and finally get to tell them off or get your revenge or whatever? (One of my more elaborate ones involved me actually suggesting a Kickstarter to friends to make it happen. I would tell you I'm not proud, but to this day I'm pretty sure it would be funded.) Those fantasies help you get through your breakup, because imagining your ex begging for forgiveness in front of all your coworkers until you tell him to stop, he's making a scene and then security escorts him out...I mean, that feels pretty good. In your head. Because in reality, if your ex showed up at work, it would be a total nightmare. 

And exes do show up. It's not usually at your parents' house during Sunday family dinner so he can apologize for ruining your life. It's usually accidental and messy. Oh yeah...and online. It'll happen online. We all know it's the worst. And yet...when we're on the other side...it's so tempting...

Well it's his birthday. I should tell him happy birthday. Just because I ended our relationship doesn't mean I want him to have a shitty birthday, right? It's harmless. 

Stop that. I'm saying this to you and to me. It's a tough decision, I know. But when do you let go of an ex? I'm not talking about avoiding them, because that's basically impossible. Given geography, mutual friends, and technology, you're probably going to run into an ex somehow. (Particularly technology. At least your mutual friends KNOW you broke up and don't want to see each other. Facebook is like, hey you have 37 mutual friends with this guy--maybe you should friend him! YES FACEBOOK I KNOW HIM. WE BROKE UP. YOU KNOW THAT, TOO. YOU KNOW EVERYTHING. You can keep track of what dresses I'm checking out on ModCloth but you can't remember who I digitally broke up with? I call bullshit.) 

Occasionally, an ex of mine will pop up somewhere on the internet I forgot about when I cleaned him out of my life. He recommended a book on Goodreads? He still uses Goodreads? Delete. Oh yeah, we WERE connected on LinkedIn...not anymore. I don't need to see that. 

There's no solid rule about contact with exes, and every relationship and subsequent breakup is a special little snowflake, blah blah blah, so you can't exactly go around making up hard and fast rules. So I don't have anything useful to tell you, as usual. But since this issue came up recently for a friend, I thought I'd tackle it just in case. 

Here are the few rules I use when it comes to getting in touch with exes. 

1. If I did the dumping, I let him come to me. He gets to set the terms of our post-breakup "friendship." Sure, maybe I said let's just be friends, but after that I'm letting him take the lead on it. If and when he's ready to be friendly, he can let me know. (And you're sitting there like, well what if he never calls? Then you really, really broke him and he never calls. Get over it.)

2. If I was dumped, then I cut off contact. No drunk texts, no sad voicemails, no tweets, and for god's sake no poking on Facebook. None. Shut it down. When (if) the time comes that I am no longer still in love with him and can really, honestly be just friends with him, I'll test the waters. (TEST the waters, not dive in headfirst.) You'll notice the emphasis on honesty here. You've got to be genuinely over him in order to forge a new post-relationship friendship. Sorry.

3. If I work with him, in any way, including volunteer stuff or him coming in to my place of work as a patron/customer, then it's polite civility. He's not worth having to chat with my boss about casually calling a customer a dickhead. 

Sometimes you can be friends with an ex. And sometimes you really, really can't. 

"Once upon a time I was falling in love..."

I'm home from summer camp! Hooray for you! (Not really hooray for me, because I super miss my friends and running around in ridiculous outfits and you know, sleeping on the top bunk isn't so bad once you assess the situation for bugs, and I DID manage to avoid the poison ivy scare. Narrowly, but avoided all the same.)

Between a dumpster fire (long story) and singing songs about poop (not as long a story as you'd imagine), I did some thinking about my ex--accidentally. One night the kids sang a song that wasn't necessarily "our song" because not only does that idea gross me out but we never agreed on it anyway, but it makes me think of him. Because of unimportant reasons. "You had to be there" kind of stuff. Anyway it's Adele. "Someone Like You." And I know what you're thinking--that song is really sad!!--and I KNOW I AGREE but hold those thoughts for a second. 

Another night at camp, we were having a dance party and naturally that led to some interpretive dancing. Our DJ took my request and played "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and let me tell you, that's a very respectable interpretive dance song. My dancing led me into the arms of a charming Italian man, as all good dancing ought to do. We sang to each other and he told me "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was his and his ex's song. 

"It's such a sad story. I should have known it would end," he said. That really hit home for me. Even while we were dating, I thought of my ex when I heard "Someone Like You." Like, it made me smile. EVEN THOUGH THAT SONG IS REALLY SAD. It's definitely about a break up. I mean, without a doubt that song is about the end of a relationship.Come on, Adele sings it. It's sad. Is that weird? That such a sad song ABOUT BREAKING UP made me think of my boyfriend...in a gross happy way? During our relationship, I never even stopped to consider the meaning of the song, to be honest. WHICH IS DUMB I KNOW. How did I not notice that I associated my boyfriend with a really really sad song? I keep telling you I make bad choices in relationships. I mean, it's not like that could have actually been Our Song. What, if we got married we would have danced to Sad Adele? (HAHA MY WEDDING j/k that was never going to happen.) People would have judged us so hard, and probably tweet about it and I'm saying this with 100% confidence because I would absolutely do the same thing. Sad Adele can't REALLY be your song. 

So I've been thinking: does your song set the tone for your relationship? Should I have known we were doomed? If you pick a sad song to represent you as a couple, are you saying you're a sad couple? Maybe you're an idiot like me and never really put all the pieces together? Or maybe you just don't have any shits to give? Or is this a sign that I spent too much time with teenagers this month? I have so many questions about this!

Although ultimately I suppose I just have one--what does it say about you as a couple if your song is sad? Feel free to weigh in on this...

Everything I Love Leaves Me

My last relationship ended because my long distance boyfriend needed space. You know, in addition to the 4,000 miles he already had. 

Until then, I never realized my love was so aggressive, so overbearing that I could drive people away with the sheer force of it--and from so great a distance to boot! I should put that on my resume. Is it a marketable skill? Let me know. 

I thought it was the first time my affection has been cause for flight, but a conversation with Twin made me remember an old mp3 player sitting in a desk drawer. 

When I went abroad in college, I bought an mp3 player--but not an iPod. I didn't want that. Instead I got myself a Rio. And I loved that thing. (Still love. Present tense.) It served me so well. Production on Rio mp3 players shut down before I finished college. Undeterred, I used my Rio Karma until a new laptop (and thus, a new unsupported operating system upgrade) facilitated the purchase of a new device. It was so sad, but without updated software, I couldn't add or delete music from my player. (My Rio still works just fine, for the record. I just can't update it--it's a time capsule for my musical taste in college.) 

Still determined not to buy an iPod, I got a Microsoft Zune. Another player I loved. I loved it until it died suddenly, with no warning. Once again, my love was too much to handle. Production on the Zune halted. There was no replacing mine after that. I had loved it too hard. Twin found me looking for an ipod alternative after that and gently suggested that while my love was too much for Rio and Microsoft, perhaps Apple could hold up under the staggering weight of my adoration. 

I admitted she might have a point and thus, settled for an iPod. (No offense, Apple. I'm just not an iGirl.) Things are fine. I enjoy it, feeling fairly confident that it will still be around in the morning. It's reliable. It's probably for the best. 

Before you go assuming I just have terrible taste in electronics, I should tell you that my love drove away a favorite shampoo, which I spent a couple years importing from Canada whenever we crossed the border. (Border proximity perks.) 

Given this history, I should not have been surprised by the text from the man I love, explaining his need for space. (Or rather, not explaining it. Just mentioning, more accurately.) Apparently, I just love too hard. 

Watch out, Apple. I'll try to play it cool this time. 

Weekend Updates

Have I been neglecting you, readers? I feel like I have. Here are a few updates and things you might have missed...

1. I still haven't taken my Chia Pet out of the box. I'm afraid. But I will! Do I have to name it or anything, or will just keeping it alive be enough? 

2. I spent a lovely, freezing afternoon shoveling snow with Mr. Darcy. We made eye contact once but he preferred to shovel in silence. How smitten he must be, to persist in ignoring me even as circumstances pushed us together! Any day now I believe we'll have our second conversation. 

3. My ex popped up on a mutual friend's facebook last week and it was just annoying. A matter of, ugh, get off my computer screen. Then I noticed his new profile picture and thought, I'm not attracted to this man. Then over the weekend, it was Overshare Story Time with my cousins and I mentioned something about him. Saying it out loud made me realize that our relationship probably wouldn't have lasted, even if he had been speaking to me. It was pretty great! 

4. St. Patrick's Day was Monday and I met a few friends for a beer. We skipped our usual spots and hit up a place we seldom visit. The people watching did not disappoint. Not only did it inspire a new project, but it provided hours of entertainment. St. Patrick's Day also creates crowded bars, which is a perfect setting for my favorite public place game. And yes, the holiday also makes me miss my year in Ireland and yes, I'm that horrible person who wants to tell you how much better Guinness tastes in Ireland SORRY I CAN'T HELP IT IT'S TRUE. 

5. Here's a fun video you should probably watch. I'll never be over this song. 

Quick Boyfriend Story

Here's a fun fact: 

I once dated this guy who learned about my lingering childhood fear of a particular movie. He loves that movie and couldn't understand, so he tried to get me to watch it all the time and quoted it regularly and changed my caller ID picture to the main character on his phone. 

Cool guy. 


Should that have been a red flag for me?

Seeking Closure

One thing I learned about relationships from television when I was growing up was that whenever something ended, you needed closure. It was everywhere, even though I was only vaguely aware of what it meant. Everyone was talking about needing to find closure--and not just regarding romantic relationships. Any ending is the beginning of our quest for closure.

Television taught me that closure was something you have to seek out. It's not just handed to you. You are Carrie Bradshaw, chain smoking in expensive shoes as you write this week's column. You are Rachel, with perfect hair despite the roller coaster that is your relationship with Ross. (Ok, that's a lot of female perspective. This behavior is not limited to ladies, though! High Fidelity--both the movie and the book, although I'd rank the book slightly higher if I'm being honest--is the story of a dumped man looking to figure out his relationship failures and seeking out closure from his worst breakups of all time.) You need to know why your relationship is over. You will go and claim the closure you are due!

So...what is closure, then? Right, if we're talking dictionary definition, it's a conclusion or the bringing to an end. But...you got dumped. (Or you did the dumping, or you got fired, or a friend cut ties, or your shampoo was discontinued..) So there's definitely been an end. Closure is more than that. Closure is you accepting that it's over, whatever it is, and moving on with your life.

If you follow the Sex and the City Guide to Life (don't), then seeking closure means calling your ex or showing up at his apartment and demanding answers. (Sometimes it means sleeping with your ex one last time. That's a blog for another day.) But really, how will that conversation benefit you? This is something I was struggling with in the aftermath of my last relationship. Before it was Officially Over, Twin asked me, "Is there anything he could say that would make you forgive him?" Nope. The answer jumped out of my mouth quite easily. The damage was done. So when I was trying to make sense of the wreckage, I thought about talking to him again. What would I say? Well naturally I would ask why. (Plus or minus some choice words, depending on my mood.) What could he say that would make me feel better?

Well, I was an enormous dick and forgot how to act like an adult. In my pathetic attempts to juggle everything going on, I let you fall to the floor and forgot I was in a relationship. Did I mention I acted like a dick? Because I did. You deserved better than that. You didn't do anything wrong and nothing you could have done would change my actions. I'll always regret the way I treated you. Please accept this million dollar check as my apology. 

Yeah...that would probably make me feel better. But will he ever say that? Not likely. We experienced the end of our relationship separately--and differently. The truth is, I wouldn't like anything he said to me.

Here's what I think--I think closure comes from you. When I composed my ex's explanation, I decided that was the truth. To hear it from him, I would predict three possible outcomes: 1. His explanation sucks and I hate it and guess who is still angry? 2. His explanation is so beyond weird that I never could have come up with it and will probably have a hard time believing it. 3. I'm dead-on and my imagined explanation is exactly what happened. In that case I don't need to hear it. Maybe I'm altering history a little bit, but it helps me sleep at night so I don't really care. A university in the Netherlands did a study on apologies. Following an exercise, part of the group received an apology from their partner. The other part were told to imagine their partner apologizing. Those who imagined it were more satisfied with their apology than those who actually received one. Basically, those who imagined it heard exactly what they wanted to hear--and it turns out that we value that more than the reality of knowing the other person is sorry. 


Thanks for trying, 90s television, but I'm not asking for closure. I'm creating it and moving on.

Relationship Remains

2014 is the Year of Progress. With that attitude in mind, I went into my attic and found the box I shoved into a corner when my relationship ended. In the weeks of uncertainty, between finding out he was, in fact, alive and not unconscious in some hospital unable to answer my messages, and the actual end of our relationship, I didn't have the energy to sort through relics. I threw it all into a box--pictures, cards, gifts, stuff I permanently borrowed from his flat. Out of sight, out of mind--and I needed it out of mind. 

But this! Is the Year of Progress! So I marched upstairs, rooted around until I remembered where I put the box, and sorted through it. Clothes have been donated, but the rest of it...it has to go. For now, it's all in a bag on my back patio, frozen under a mound of snow. It deserves nothing better, and it certainly doesn't deserve space in my home. When the weather improves, if that ever happens, it'll get chucked into a fire. (I'll try and document for you.) 

It's there somewhere...

It brought up some questions, though. What do you do with the artifacts of extinct relationships? Is it right after the end, or do you wait? Does it matter how it ended or who ended it? I'm curious...tell me your rituals. 

I asked online, and got a few interesting answers...

--"Viking funeral is always fun."
--"Step on it a lot. Then clean it. Donate to charity."
--"I'm a big proponent of pyromania."
--"I used his t-shirts as dusting and cleaning rags."
--"Not to sound like Al Gore or anything but--put it in a lockbox."

I love it. So, it's your turn: what do you do? Leave your thoughts in the comments!

Maturity is hard.

I really try to be a fully formed adult. I'm pretty good about buying fabric softener and picking up my prescriptions before it's an emergency. I can always find a bandaid and almost never wear my onesie in public. (When I do, it is for a very good reason.) I might finally know what I want to be when I grow up and I'm part of a book club. That's all very adult stuff, wouldn't you agree? 

Part of this grown up I'm almost 30 attitude has been letting go of anger towards my ex. I mean, it'll never be ok and I'll never understand it, but directing my anger 24/7 at just one person was exhausting--and quite frankly it was limiting. There are so many things to be angry about! 

Sometimes...it is hard to be mature. 

Between all the Halloween merchandise that just left stores and the Christmas explosion that has just arrived, shopping has been particularly difficult. My ex works for a pretty well-known company. And I know what products they make and I have a pretty good idea what products he himself had a hand in. With all that knowledge, it's very tempting to have a not-so-adult moment and turn all the packaging backwards. Or hide them. Or sweep the lot of it off the shelf in a fit of rage. Most of the time I roll my eyes and bite my tongue to keep from telling other shoppers to take their business elsewhere, to companies that do not employ my ex. It wouldn't really do any good--the company would still make money and then the Target employees would hate me. No, that method would only earn me a reputation as Pathetic Jilted Lover and that's so clichéd. I can do better than that. 

I mean, if I'm going to go that route, I'll definitely put on my onesie first. 

Another letter to facebook...

Dear Facebook,

We meet again. Why is it always you? Why is it that whenever there's a social media problem, you're at the root of it? 

I have a request. This isn't like that time I complained about your new format. (ALL THOSE TIMES.) This is a legit concern. And I think I speak for a lot of us with this one. 

Our exes are on facebook. It's unavoidable. (Actually, a lot of my exes gave up facebook--my internet presence is so powerful, it would seem, that they gave it up altogether. Yes, you may bow and kiss my ring.) But COLLECTIVELY, our exes are on facebook. And sometimes we like to check up on them. Even if they unfriended us. On our birthday. (...hypothetically.) 

Sometimes you just have to know. So you hop on over to their page and click around. Hm, new girlfriend? I guess she's cute, if you like that conventional girl next door type. You changed your hair. It's long, like I always hated. Still posting gratuitous pictures of cars you'll never own, I see. Your dog is still adorable. Can I have--nope, that's weird. 

We can't help it. Clicking on that profile, that portal to their world...we just want to creep around like the ghost of relationships past. Just to see if they rearranged any furniture, so to speak. Most of us are guilty of this in some way or another. 

But it's dangerous, you see. The longer you click around over there, the more you're tempting fate. If you go through a dozen profile pictures, two new albums, and the last two months of timeline...you're going to click like. And you are going to regret it. You stare at the screen for a second in disbelief. You hover over "unlike" trying to debate the merits of undoing your mistake. Did the notification already go through? Have I caught it in time? Is there a facebook equivalent of the 5 second rule? If I unlike it, won't that show that I didn't mean to do it, and therefore catch me in my own web of stalking? Should I own it? Yes, I liked your status update! Thumbs up! 

Those 15 seconds of turmoil are enough to make you swear off this habit, like a college student nursing a hangover. 

So, facebook, isn't it time you helped us out? I'm not asking for much--just a little seatbelt for my tours through my romantic past. A way to help me keep my hands and arms inside the tram. Like a creeper setting. Just browsing--disable anything but browsing. Or a little confirmation message. "You've listed this person as your ex. Are you sure you want to like their cover photo?" Think about it. 

Hook us up. We're begging you. Your move, facebook. 
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda

It's hard to break up with his itunes collection.

There is nothing quite like a breakup to make you realize just how digital our relationships have become. I'm not talking about online dating--I'm talking about the digital fingerprint that people leave on our lives. It's so much bigger than deleting a contact. First you have to unfriend/unfollow them on every social media site. You may or may not untag pictures. And then you're done, right? 

Nope. Just getting started. I've particularly struggled with my last breakup because of the whole long-distance thing. It puts a lot of your relationship online. Do you delete all the pictures? Or save them to some buried file so that you still have a few in fifty years when you're over it? (On top of that, my ex worked somewhere that created apps, among other things. My phone was a museum of our relationship.) I found a small bit of relief when I had to replace my phone and his apartment wireless stopped popping up on my list of wi-fi options. (Out of range, of course, but still in my phone's memory.)

Do you save anything from old relationships? I have a friend who has an item of clothing from each of her exes. For me, it's music. I've discovered that I always end up accumulating music because of boyfriends. I can tell you the favorite band of every ex-boyfriend--at least, whatever his favorite band was while we were together. It's because those bands still pop up on my itunes. It's the only thing I feel comfortable keeping around. When the end is fresh and still shitty, I skip past them. But deleting them always feels like an injustice. Those bands ended up on my ipod because I liked the way my boyfriend talked about them. I liked their excitement about having me listen to a favorite song. I ended up liking a lot of those songs...so they stay. 

On one visit, the Ex filled up a flash drive with music I should try. Admittedly, I only liked some of it--but I gave it a try. When it was over, some of those things went the way of his company's apps. And sorry, but I'll never like E.T.--so that score was out. As I deleted files, I was feeling better. I was pulling him out of my life. But then I got to the favorites--the ones he wanted me to hear. The ones he was excited to talk about. And I hesitated. Maybe one day those songs won't make me angry--they'll just go in the gallery of exes and join the list of bands I like because a cute boy said I might. 

An Open Letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

I am mad at you. You have been, by far, the most annoying part of my breakup. When I changed my relationship status from single to the coveted “In a Relationship” you made a huge deal about it! Large font, big stupid heart next to it. It showed up on every newsfeed around, so they could like it and tell me how happy they were. You announced it to everyone! My sort-of-new relationship was on display for the world. Or at least, the part of the world I allow access to my profile.

But that's where you stop being involved, huh? You're only in it for the praise. None of this "for better or worse" between us, I see. You're happy to throw confetti in the air when I finally announce publicly that I'm dating someone. 

But then, when things get ugly? I have to change myself back to single and where are you? Nowhere. I'm on my own with this announcement, in more ways than one. All those people who clicked like...I have to tell them myself. You can't even find our mutual friends and send them a heads up? Nope. Apparently that's beyond your skill set. Identifying everyone in my pictures? Sure, you can handle that. Creeping my internet history so the ads on my newsfeed hit my interests? Yeah, you can do that. You're basically a stalker I signed up for, facebook. But freaking telling people I'm single again is too hard? Give me a break.

Instead, it falls on me. I'm single again (my natural state) so I'm on my own with this mission. Now every time I catch up with someone I get to have that fun exchange where they ask how my boy is doing and I get to say, "Fine, maybe? I wouldn't know, we haven't spoken in months." 

This is a flawed system. And you're on my shit list, facebook. 

Solitarily yours,

Bitter Amanda

On Family and Feeling Back to Normal

Guess what I did this weekend? 

If you didn't guess "attend a wedding" then you must be new here. Because that's all I do. It was actually a 50th anniversary vow renewal for an aunt and uncle. And it was actually a pretty awesome time. Vow renewals are the way to go--they're so much better than weddings. It was way less sappy and a lot shorter and no bouquet toss or any of that nonsense. But there was still a bar, good food, cake, and loads of my cousins who are the greatest in the world. All the parts of weddings that are fun but none of the crap. (Still have to get fancy, though. No yoga pants allowed. Not that I asked. It was implied.) 

We all got together the night before the ceremony, since so many family members came in from out of town. My aunt brought a home movie she recorded at another family party in 1994. (I was 10 years old.) It was...well, I think we can all just admit that the early 90s were a rough time. We saw a lot of shoulder pads and a lot of very large glasses. I regret nothing about my choice of dress, I remember loving that dress and thinking I was pretty fashion forward. 

All the cousins in my generation crowded around a dining room table, away from the older and younger generations, beers in hand. One of them asked about my boyfriend, and I explained that we are no longer together. She asked what happened and I tried to use polite grown-up conversation words to describe the situation. It's a hard task for me. After I finished, she said, "Well...that sounds like...a dick thing to do." I breathed a sigh of relief that cousins can be counted on to be awesome. "YES it was a major dick move. Thank you." All the others nodded their heads and murmured "dick move..." in agreement. 


The rest of my weekend was full of meetings but I have serious issues and love things like that. On Saturday morning, everyone gave their status reports on various projects. Coffee in hand, I listened as B reported that we have a potential director for something coming up in the future. Without looking up from my notes I asked if he was single and attractive. It was an instinctive move, back to the single person I used to be. And it felt awesome. It felt awesome to not think about my ex for once, who still invades thoughts more often than I care to admit. Maybe this normal feeling will stick. We'll see...

Purging My Facebook

I have a hard time deleting people from my life.

I have no problem cutting things off with a guy (which should not surprise you after all we've been through), giving the cold shoulder to someone's ex, or ignoring people in public when I don't care about how many times your baby pooped today. But when it comes to getting rid of their digital presence in my life, it's harder. 

I can tell you my reasons, of course. I keep phone numbers in my phone for a long time because I want to know who is calling--an ex pocket dialed me the other day, which I figured out when he hung up after two rings. (Unless he really does want me back and is just nervous...hmm...) If I had deleted his number, I would have considered calling him back after seeing my area code. Awkwardness avoided! 

I keep some exes (mine, Twin's, that sort of thing...) around on facebook so I can creep on them and feel superior. I can tell someone her ex has gained a lot of weight or is dating someone far less pretty. I keep these cards in my pocket for moments of low self-esteem or boredom. (I know, that's rude. Whatever.)

I think all the rest of my excuses are pretty lame, though--because basically I just want the option of seeing what you're doing with your life. Maybe I want to make fun of your ugly bridesmaids dresses or call a real friend and marvel that you're pregnant again. (OK, I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON, I GET IT.)

But you guys...I must be going through some maturity growth spurt or something because I just cleaned up my facebook a little. I was checking the privacy settings on a status update I was about to make, when I realized how dumb it is that I have people on my "friend" list who pretty much don't see anything of mine, ever. WHICH IS REALLY DUMB and also they are not people I would call friends, to their face or anyone else's. 

So I clicked on that unfriend button. Someone's asshole ex? Gone. Woman I HATED in college? Bye. JYA bitch? You're out. Annoying girl I worked with a million years ago? Unfriend. 

It felt awesome. Why was I keeping those people in my life? Growing up is easy. 


We won't talk about how after that I shamelessly facebook stalked not only a guy from my past but also a guy I met recently. Not at all. We're going to focus on the first part of this blog. PERSONAL GROWTH.

Wedding Recap (Wedding 1 of 4)

As you might recall, I found myself at my ex-boyfriend's wedding recently.

I'll preface everything by saying that ultimately, I had a pretty good time. The DJ was awesome and pretty much catered to the groom's friends when it came to his music selection. 

However. The whole thing started with an air of uncertainty, as we were told it was not a sit-down dinner reception, but rather a "strolling dinner"--we were also led to believe this would basically be heavy appetizers. Twin put some granola bars in her purse, particularly for our friends in the wedding party who'd been at the venue for hours. (Drinking.) There had been no rehearsal of any kind, which lent to the potential chaos. Everyone was milling around chatting, not sitting. The clock ticked closer to the 4pm start time. A few of us decided that maybe we could start the sitting down process? It didn't exactly start a trend and nobody else sat down until 2 minutes before 4. 

That ended up being ok, since the groomsmen and groom didn't appear for 10 more minutes. It should be noted here that of 5 groomsmen, one was the brother of the bride, three were good friends of mine, and the best man was a horrible human being. He happened to be carrying a plastic water bottle. Up to the altar. At a wedding. 

Drink when your OCD tendencies kick in!

It took every ounce of self-control I possess to not go up and smack that water bottle out of his foolish hand. The girls next to me were ready to move out of my way and support my choice. 

He did, finally, put the damn thing away. And then we were ready! 

Well. We'll be ready when the bridesmaids come down the aisle! 

Bridesmaids? 

Here's someone--oh, nope. She's got the boutonnieres for  the guys.  They forgot about them. 

Five minutes later, flowers on, we got started. Bridesmaids arrived, bride made her entrance, and I tried to memorize her face. (We've only met for about 10 seconds and I'll never find her again unless she's wearing a wedding dress, so this seemed like a prudent move.)

The ceremony was short (hooray!) and the vows were written by the bride and groom. I couldn't really hear them but I'm sure they were...fine. The groom's ring was MIA, so there was a short break while someone ran to get it. It was over within half an hour. While we all waited for pictures to be done and car seating to be arranged, flasks were broken out. We had plenty to go around. Snacks were also handed out. 

Given the nature of the reception, there were limited tables (the small kind you stand around) and even less seating. The first of our friends to arrive staked out a table. We basically made a blood pact that the table must not go unoccupied--we were not giving it up. 

Cheers to the bride and groom. And the bar. 

Thanks to the heavy-handed bartender for that one. When the groomsmen arrived late, we were correct in assuming they'd stopped for food. We learned that the McDonald's employee helping them asked if they were attending prom. Sure, ten years ago. 

We got through the formalities--taking turns safeguarding our table. The first dance (generic song I've never heard), mother/son and father/daughter dances (groom chose Daft Punk, a solid decision), and speeches (the maid of honor gave sexist, generic advice she googled, including telling the groom that the bride is always right and that she can never have too many shoes ARE YOU KIDDING WITH THIS DRINK WHEN YOU'RE BORED). 

Then we ate. And ate. And ate. The food was delicious and I'm sorry I doubted it. There was a breakfast station with french toast and bacon. And buffalo chicken sliders. And mac and cheese. My humble apologies. 

We tracked down the dessert station and learned that we would not have to endure a cake cutting or the dreaded bouquet toss. 

Excellent. Let's eat our feelings. 

We moved onto the dance floor when Beyonce got involved, and didn't move from there for an hour or so. Until we were forced. Because the bride's brother proposed during the reception and DJ Fun Killer played a slow song for them. I went back to my date, Jack Daniels, and we repopulated our little table. (Which by then we were treating like a small island nation.) The bride's friends got their claws in the DJ, who played the kind of country music you can't even dance to for 4-5 songs. 

Suddenly, the music got louder and Britney Spears started. We looked at each other-- "He wants us back." We got back to the dance floor and were heartily welcomed by the DJ. We spent another couple hours dancing, except for when he played Africa by Toto and two of our friends protested at a table because they hate that song--and fun, I guess. 

It's also important to note that, despite issues in my personal life, I didn't have any breakdowns in the ladies room or anything! Self five. 

Wow, Amanda, you're not talking about the bride much. You're right, readers, I'm not. Why is that? Probably because she didn't come talk to us at all during the entire reception. Three groomsmen and one bridesmaid and over half a dozen other friends of the groom spent pretty much the whole night together and she couldn't quite make her way over to us. 

We didn't talk to the bride at all. I'm going to leave that without commentary. I feel like you all understand what I'm getting at with it. Right? 

Enjoy those kitchen towels and mixing bowls, I guess. 

Weekend plans? Great.

So tomorrow I'm attending a wedding. The wedding of a high school friend. More specifically, my ex-boyfriend's wedding. My first boyfriend. The one I've had a...tumultuous relationship with, to say the least. 

WAIT UP I just checked and I'm not sure I ever filled you in on that. It's long and complicated, so I'll give you the highlights. 
--We dated when we were 16, for about half a summer. 
--I have another great story about that for another time.
--We broke up and even that was no simple matter. He seemed to feel really guilty, even though I agreed with him. 
--Despite his use of "We should just be friends," we did not, in fact, remain friendly. And by that I mean I tried to be friendly and he ignored me. 
--I think I wrote him a letter about his callous, asshole behavior in our mutual friend group? I'm not sure I'd advise my young self to do that, if given the opportunity...
--We finally got to the friend place again. It helped that he had a new girlfriend. 
--Things were slightly weird in college, but we didn't see each other much. 
--After college, he developed feelings again. I did everything I could to discourage these feelings, considering they were not reciprocal. 
--There was a pretty terrible bar conversation about New Years kisses, causing me to change my NYE plans to avoid unwanted kissing. 
--Things were silent between us for a while.
--He sent me anonymous Valentine's Day flowers. 
--HE SENT ME VALENTINE'S DAY FLOWERS. (It bears repeating.)
--He was mad that I didn't like them and I was mad that he kept calling to talk about it and I hung up on him repeatedly and he called anyway and tried to tell me they were friendly. 
--That was a few years ago and we're (basically) good now! 

He's getting married tomorrow. Did I seriously never tell you guys about getting red and pink Valentine's Day flowers from my ex? HOW DID I LET THAT HAPPEN? 

So...that's my life now. Keep an eye on my twitter, because it's sure to be entertaining!