Boredom Folly's By Christine Swiderski
I am tired of being the third wheel. After my last relationship failed I decided not to go shopping for more trouble. Instead, I have squared my shoulders with determination to be alone. Me just me and no other person can complete what is already complete. Now back to my complaint, I am tired of being the third wheel. My friends keep inviting me to different functions just so I do not sit around the house.
This weekend events include a backyard barbecue, christening, renting movies drinking beer eating pizza. I said no to all of them. All my friends are married couples trying to get me married off. It is not in the cards at this time for me. I keep saying I am fine with it. No matter how square my shoulders are they still droop at the thought of me being alone all my life.
Okay enough! This weekend I have decided to crash a wedding. I remember back in college the guys used to laugh about the single girls they met at weddings. If guys can crash weddings, Hollywood says you can. I bought a shiny black strapless dress, shoes to match. My hairdresser out did himself. I am ready. I made the decision as soon as the user asked me who I knew in the wedding party I would say the groom.
The groom was visibly nervous standing at the alter with his groomsmen. Everyone stood, turned to see the bride. She was stunning. Her arm was tucked into the crook of a handsome man with just enough gray at his temples to make him appear distinguished.
The music started, the vocalist started to sing "Something in the way she moves."
I was sitting on the end of the pew, midway up the aisle. Suddenly the bride seemed to zero in on me. Her eyes were penetrating. My stomach churned, a knot formed. Does she know I crashed the wedding? That is ridiculous I told myself. There is no way she could know. Suddenly she let out a mighty screech "What is she doing here Adam!?" She said this as she raised her arm and pointed at me.
I took in a breath and was transfixed to my spot. I looked around and was horrified everyone was staring at me. The preacher came down the aisle. I was afraid he was going to thump me with the bible he had in his hand. I tried to clear my head and my throat at the same time. The bride was crying and running out of the church. The groom came running down the aisle, looked at me as he passed by. Shock and confusion registered upon his face. I shrugged. He stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly turning back to me, ever so slowly he walked over to me. Once he was standing directly in front of me he hoarsely whispered "Danielle?" Confusion must have been written on my face when I said: "No my name is Susan."
The gentleman that was walking the bride down the aisle was still standing near me. He reached his hand for me to take it. I took his hand, I needed the reassuring grip to hold me up. He introduced himself as Mark Goodman. He was the bride's uncle.
I asked Mark what just happened. He said I have the uncanny resemblance to Adam's late wife.
What are the odds I said, I crashed the wedding to have something to do and here I am a spectacle instead of a spectator! Mark laughed. Standing outside with him I realized how strikingly handsome he is.
I thanked him and excused myself. He called to me "Hold on Susan where are you going?"
I said: "Anywhere but here."
He said: "Oh come on. Come to the reception with me. I know there will not be a wedding. I am not so sure Adam was ready for this marriage. They will work it out. Maybe sometime in the future."
I stood for a moment looking at this man. I did an obeisant bow with all the flourish I could muster and said: "Lead on kind, sir."
He offered me his arm. I tucked mine into the crook of his elbow. He walked me to a hall just behind the church. Many other guests, who were actually invited to the wedding were in the hall. As we walked in the hall, my stomach started to churn not knowing what to expect. The voices quieted as everyone turned in our direction. What happened next I could never have predicted. They all applauded. I laughed. The rest of the evening was a blast. The next twenty years were perfect.