Speak Not

Any self respecting swiftie could tell you Taylor’s 3rd album is her first (and only) completely self written album. The title track Speak Now, is a cute pick me story of a girl who crashes her ex boyfriend's wedding as he’s about to say I do. It ends with him realizing she’s the one he truly loves, leaving his bride, who is made to seem uptight and unfun, at the alter as he and Taylor run out hand in hand into the sunset, ending the song in a fairytale happily ever after. At least, it’s a happily ever after for her, but you know what no one thinks about? The poor bride, standing at the alter in front of all of her (and his) friends and family, who spent months planning everything, thousands of dollars making everything, only for someone else to have their happy ending. Today, I am that bride.

You don’t realize how completely mortifying it is for someone to stand before all of your loved ones as the *guy* says “is there anyone who objects to this marriage?” Why do they even have that line? You don’t think about it when you’re doing your rehearsal, because who would actually object to a wedding? Her apparently, Rebecca Harris. She and Brad had been high school sweethearts, and remained friends throughout college, when I had met him. Looking back all the signs were there, the monthly dinners, the weekend “work trips,” the late night texts “from my coworker.” But when you’ve been together for 4 years you trust them, granted the thought always crossed my mind, but I feared being “that girlfriend.” You know the one, where the guy can’t even spend a few hours at a bar with his friends. The one that’s “crazy” and “controlling.” It’s a shame I wasn’t like that, could have saved myself $48,000 and a lifetime of embarrassment. So the next time you call a girl crazy remember, she may just be saving herself from being the other woman in a Taylor Swift song.

So what do you do after your minutes to be husband leaves you standing alone at your own wedding? You drink.

We already spent the money, might as well get what you paid for. As soon as their silhouettes disappeared behind the sliding barn doors of our country chic venue, I ripped out my veil, hiked up my Pnina Tornai dress, and stomped back down the aisle, straight to the bar.

“Tequila neat,” the bartender looked startled as I barked my order at him, “please.” It’s not his fault my would have been husband walked out on me, I shouldn’t take it out on him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Hi dad,” my father’s face was as red as the rose petals scattered down the aisle.

“I mean, really? Four years he spent with you and he gives it all up for some other fucking broad? Are you fucking kidding me, does he know how much this wedding was? I’m gonna kill him, I swear if I….” I tuned out the rest of it, the last thing I need to hear is my father bitch about money, I just lost the love of my life, and he wants to talk to me about what a waste of money it was? Yeah okay dad, that’s what’s most important here.

“Oh my god, Brandy! Are you okay? I can’t, I mean, what . . . I don’t even know what to say I mean, I saw it happen, but I just can’t believe it happened!” My Maid of Honor Steph has been my friend since I was 8, to be perfectly honest she drives me fucking nuts, but without any sisters who else was I going to ask?

“Hey Steph”

“I mean, I was shocked, absolutely gobsmacked, I didn’t know what to do! I just stood there with my mouth open thinking, should I say something? Should I chase after him, should I chase after you?” Steph has a way of thinking she’s the main character in every situation, including her best friends wedding crisis.

“Hey, Steph,” I practically yell at her at this point, “can we not make this about you for once?” Her eyes widened as the daggers leave my mouth.

It takes her a second but she finally says, “ I know you are hurting right now, and just lashing out, like a wounded animal, you poor thing, talk to me once you’ve calmed down honey.”

Calmed. Down. My blood boils at the sound of those words. My entire world has just ended, and she has the audacity to think that I should calm down?

People begin to awkwardly flood into the cocktail hour. As I look around I see all the eyes raking over me, most with empathy, some with humor, others with gossip. I see the matrade walk over, I know what she’s going to say, but I make her ask anyway.

“Hi Brandy, I’m so sorry to hear what happened sweetie, how would you like us to proceed? Unfortunately you can’t get a refund, but I would love to offer you the bridal suite for the remainder of the event if you would like some privacy.” The sympathetic smile on her face tells me this isn’t the first time she’s given this speech, I guess it’s comforting to know I’m not the only bride who has been left at this alter.

“Fuck it, let everyone enjoy the rest of the time, I’ll be here, let them stare, maybe they won’t think about objecting to someone’s wedding,” I refuse to go and hide, this is still my event.

People walk around and enjoy the cocktail hour, 10 stations, 18 passed hour’serves, and our two signature cocktails, The MANhattan of the hour, and the Espresso your love Martini. Then dinner, a choice of Filet with a mushroom Chianti sauce and a side of garlic parm mashed potatoes and roasted veggies, the spinach and goat cheese stuffed baked chicken with a side of rice pilaf and veggies, and blackened salmon with a side of rice Pilaf and veggies, and we just had to have a pasta dish for all of his vegan friends who couldn’t make one of those choices work. The DJ plays as if it’s any other party, and makes up excuses to make stupid jokes and get on the mic as often as he could. I stayed at the bar, the whole night, wondering if my pinned up hair would begin to collect dust, like a statue that’s been neglected and left only to be seen, not to be touched.

“Hey girlie, did you eat?” Emma, one of my bridesmaids, is the only other person besides my parents and Steph to come and check on me.

“Just a liquid diet, that’s all I can stomach right now.” I pass my Espresso your love Martini glass back to the bartender for my 3rd refill.

“I know babes, but please, try and eat something, I brought you the filet, I know you were excited to eat this,” she places the plate down, and sits next to me. It does look delicious, the steak is sliced showing its perfectly medium rare center, just the way I like it. As much as I don’t want to eat and punish myself with starvation, I grab the fork and knife and begin to hack away at it. Emma just sits there and watches me, she knows I don’t need, or want, to hear anything right now. There’s nothing anyone can say to heal the hole that is in me right now.

I couldn’t really tell you what happened the rest of the night, all I remember is stumbling up to my room, ripping the flowers and card off of our sweetheart bed, and drowning myself in the champagne that was left for us, compliments of the hotel. Us, 6 hours ago all there was, was us, and now, it’s just me. Me in this stupid fucking dress that cost way too much money, with a broken heart, and nothing more to do with my life. I stand in the full length mirror, staring at the shattered pieces of myself. I can’t describe the noise that left me as I fell to the ground, grabbing at the dress, trying to rip it off of me. Eventually my hands found a pair of scissors. I cut, and cut, and cut until finally it fell off of me, like pieces of wrapping paper off a gift. As I drift off into what I hope is an eternal black out all I can think is, I will never let myself feel like this again, ever.