Yesterday I learnt a valuable life lesson:
Don't go to your sister's ex-boyfriend's wedding.
Seems obvious in hindsight, but then that's always 20-20. Isn't that what they say?
The said ex-boyfriend is also an employee of the company I work for, the family company run by my dad and his business partner, which has been my extended family and home-away-from-home for the past 19+ years. AB has worked there for 15+ years and I have come to regard him as part of my extended family as well. Especially after he had a meaningful, if difficult, relationship with my dear sister for a couple of years.
He and I have always got on well. We talk and laugh, though I'm sure we're quite opaque to each other as real people. I hold him in high regard as a work colleague and a person.
I didn't think twice about accepting the invitation to his wedding. It never occurred to me not to, that there could possibly be any sort of problem. Only that it may have been awkward for my sister, but she assured me she was cool with it.
But during the speeches (strangely not at all during the ceremony) it hit me like a tonne of bricks. Whoa! I did not see it coming. AT. ALL. The feelings (fuck, I hate feelings)... they just came flooding through and it took a lot of self control and staring intently into the middle distance not to burst into tears. The "what could have been", the "why?", the "fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I feeling here?" feelings.
I struggled with the words and the eye contact when saying my goodbyes to the bride (if I didn't come across as thoroughly insane I will be very surprised). We left early, feigning tiredness and having to drive my dad home, when in reality I just couldn't wait to get away. Very suddenly I felt very very wrong.
Well enough about my psychological problems for one Sunday afternoon. As you were.