‘I wore a bridal gown to my ex-boyfriend’s birthday party’ must be the first sentence of someone’s dystopic memoirs. However, the invitation did say formal wear, and I am no rudesby.
An ex-boyfriend’s birthday party has many things in common with a high school reunion, but the main thing is that you want to arrive at both functions triumphantly half-of. The Lad could not go so I had to dress like a wife. All evening I stood in my bridal gown silently pretending to be married.
“How is life with the new boyfriend?” asked one of the boys I used to adore.
I blushed becomingly and said, “Oh, we’re still in the honeymoon phase.”
“It’s nice to see you again, it’s been a long time,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “You should give me a ring some time. Oh wait – too late!” And I held up my left hand.
“So, you’re a grants administrator?” he asked. “You must really be married to your work.”
“No,” I said, “I’m married to my husband!” Oh, we had such a time.
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