Always a bridesmaid.

Actually, I’ve never been a bridesmaid before and I’ve always wanted to be. I like the idea of planning fun parties and being at the beck and call of a nervous but happy bride on the day. I want to assist in making someone’s day perfect. You know, not enough to be the maid of honor, but enough that I’m willing to put on a potentially hideous dress for 12 hours for someone else’s happiness.

My friend C is getting married. She has been with a lovely chap for a while now, but still the engagement came as a surprise as I always saw C living with her fella as domestic partners and not man and wife. Not a clue why but while it was a surprise it was a happy surprise because the email I received announcing the engagement was just bursting with joy. I could hear her excitement through gmail. And that got me excited for her. For them.

And then the small pang of worry set in. C and I are very good friends. She was my MOH (maid of honor for all of you not a part of the wedding world) and every time I leave her to come back to Ireland, a quick email will catch us up to where we left off. It’s not a hard relationship but an incredibly enjoyable one I have been lucky to have for twelve years.

The question that begged to be answered: who would she pick as her bridesmaids? Sure, she was in my wedding, but I live on the other side of the ocean. She might want constant one-on-one attention! She might find it annoying that I more than likely wouldn’t be able to attend the shower and bachelorette party. Air travel ain’t cheap and until they come up with a teleporter, I’m stuck on this side of the ocean permanently.

Now, I realize my thoughts border on tacky. Or maybe not so much as border but actually completely swim in a sea of tacky that can only be created in New Jersey. I’m pretty sure my thoughts also come with a leopard print handbag that has feather accents.

When she told me something was coming in the mail for me that had to do with the wedding only a few days after she announced her engagement, I thought three things:

1. It’s a save-the-date.
2. She is disgustingly organised.
3. I must put a stop to this.

Look, I respect people who have their shit together but this was just too much for me. I can’t sort through my junk mail without crying twice and she is already sending out her save-the-dates? I love her but stop the madness.

Yesterday, I received the piece of mail. A shiny envelope with just enough sparkle that let’s you know it’s wedding material and to be attended to immediately. I open it up and what do I see?

Four paper dolls with shocked faces that represent her bridesmaids. One of them says “Liz”. I might have Anna Wintour’s cut but that’s okay. It’s me! She’s asking me! MY DAY HAS COME! And what an absolutely adorable way of doing it, too! She says she found it on a blog but I’ve no doubt she actually had these materials waiting around her apartment for her to use for just this occasion. Despite yesterday being an awful day, this had me jumping in my new hallway. I scared the neighbors.

Now to decide if I can make it...

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Liz in Dublin