And while I'm sure you want to hear about my passive aggressive rendezvous with Mr Lover Boy, you won't be getting it today because I have something better for you. A love story. A real-life, in-your-face re-enactment of every single love song you've ever heard.
Non-eventful weddings are the best ones to attend and luckily, I attended just that last weekend. In fact, it was so non-eventful that the only gasp-worthy moment was the bride arriving 20 minutes late (but she was serving 10/10 looks, so everyone cut her some slack).
The morning of the wedding, the gorgeous bride and I woke up beside each other in a queen bed in her parents' house and in a poetic kind of way, it's set in stone that she was saying goodbye to her old life of millions of fun, exciting sleepovers with me, and hello to her new life of way too many annoying blanket-stealing sleepovers with her hubby.
However, we had no time to engage in the poetic nature of the moment as we had a wedding to get to.
When the moment came for the glowing bride to walk down the aisle towards her one true love I thanked the lord for my strong heart, because the way the groom admired his approaching bride turned the holy trinity of bridesmaids into a mess. We were holding each other up and wiping away each other's overwhelmingly happy tears, while the groomsmen, in true groomsmen fashion, had a giggle at us.
The groom embraced his bride the minute he was able so tightly I thought she would turn into dust, but his love held her together. They exchanged vows, we all shed a tear of happiness, and he finally kissed the breathtaking woman in champagne (not white).
We spent the rest of the night celebrating the beautiful couple and admiring their happiness.
The following day at a barbecue dedicated to the newlyweds' bliss, when I was somewhere between my second glass of gin and cloud nine, fully convinced love has a happily ever after, my sort-of-kind-of-maybe ex-boyfriend made his unexpected grand entrance.
And I swear to the good lord above, if any event calls for sculling a drink, it was this one.
But it's not all bad news. As I compared him and me to the bride and groom, I made a startling realisation.
You can either waste your time with a man-child who can't spell commitment, let alone do it, or you can say boy, bye and save your energy for your very own Prince Charming.
And that, my queens, is why happily ever after depends on who you give your time and energy to.
