I received an invite to my ex’s wedding the other day.
We broke up years ago, after his indiscretion and mind-games became too much. Being the non-grudge-holding person that I am, I moved on and reached a place where I was able to bump into him without wanting to gouge his eyes out.
He met and fell in love with his fiancé about three years after our relationship ended. Apart from the slightest nostalgic twinge, I actually felt quite happy for him. I ignored the persistent wedding meeting SMS, and through a mutual friend, pledged 2 bottles of champagne for the big day.
Imagine my shock when I was stopped by the receptionist at work as I walked out of office on Wednesday, saying that someone had delivered an envelope with my name on it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was a wedding invite- it was one of those horrible, elaborate monstrosities with flowers and stars and cheap glitter that comes off all over you and sticks to you like a clingy girlfriend.
I was in two minds. Avoid the function altogether, and come across as bitter and ungracious? Or turn up, watch him walk down the aisle and then get rip-roaring drunk at the reception, celebrating that some other woman was going to be stuck with him for the rest of her miserable life?
I had other reservations about going. Apart from the fact that I would much rather watch paint dry or grass grow, I find weddings, in general, rather boring. Unless I’m performing at the function, or I am very close to either one of the people getting married, I’d much rather spend my Saturday night curled up on the couch watching gangster movies with a nice glass of red wine.
But I had to think this through carefully. Should one attend their ex’s wedding? Why was I invited anyway? To shove it in my face that he was marrying someone else? (Honestly, the woman has my sympathies). To extend an olive branch of sorts? If I turned up, would I become some kind of freak show, with everyone looking at me with those ‘Bambi-it-could-have-been-her’ expressions on their faces?
I made the mistake of asking a friend of mine what she thought. She suggested I take her along- it would be a good excuse to get dressed up and eat and drink for free. Some Ugandans, honestly. (Needless to say, our friendship is back on probation.)
All jokes aside, I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie (HA! See what I did there?). I tend to take an amputation-type of attitude towards relationships. Good or bad, they ended for a reason. No need to put on my best dress to drag up the past. That limb is well and truly severed. I shall wish the happy couple all the best from the comfort of my couch, drink some Argentinian Red and watch a bunch of Italian mafiosos pump each other full of lead.