“Bonus Track:” Favourite Ex

“It was open and closing, and hopelessly hoping for sure…” It was only my first cocktail of the evening, and the words were already streaming out of me like vomit. The elegant woman across from me, Evie, I believe she said… was cornered by my unnecessary nostalgic recap of what was once ‘Camden and I.’

“We were here, we were ghosting,” I plucked a tiny appetizer from a passing tray and a backup glass of champagne. It was going to be a backup drink type of evening. “Both of us coasting on, just give a little more-”

Evie interrupted me before I could embarrass myself any further. In her floor-length ruby red gown, she waved her perfect French manicure in the air about the room. “I’m sorry, who was it again that you know here?”

I looked down at my own nails, hand-painted a sparkly hot pink to contrast against the gold and black dress I’d chosen to wear. The polish was aptly titled, ‘Don’t Be Sea Salty.’ I decided there couldn’t be a more fitting color than that to wear to the wedding of your favourite ex-boyfriend.

I took a large gulp of champagne, finishing my first glass. “I used to date, Camden.”

Evie’s eyes widened. “The Groom?” She was suddenly very interested in what I had to say. She pretended to be elegant, but her core was bubbling over at the prospect of such juicy gossip. “Was it serious? How long were the two of you together?”

I was mid-bite of the tiny appetizer and trying to appear dainty, but instead, I ended up dusting the front of my dress with crumbs. “Sorry-“ I attempted to swallow my food. “Uh… we were together for nearly five years.”

There it was, Evie’s face went from wide-eyed interest to downright salivating. “You weren’t… were you the girl before-” she angled her head toward the Bride. “Before the girl?”

I shook my head. I was the last serious girlfriend of Camden’s before he met his blushing Bride, but, “I heard there was a short-lived affair in between us.”

“But you have, well you know- with the Groom… and he still invited you to watch him get married?”

“I’ve done a lot of things with the Groom.” Evie went pale and it occurs to me that my phrasing has sent her mind in a certain direction. “The most recent thing being… we became friends. I am just a friend watching another friend get married.”

Evie finally took a sip of her drink. You’ve got to admire restraint like that at a social gathering such as this. I was three-quarters into my second glass of champagne with only half a crumbly appetizer in my stomach as a base, and Evie had barely touched hers.

I decided it was time to go off and find something more substantial to eat. “Enjoy your evening.”

“You too, dear. If you can.” Evie suggested this with such pity in her eyes I could barely muster a polite smile as I made my break for it.

            At the open bar (the four most dangerous words uttered at anyone’s wedding, ever), I managed to forage for four different types of appetizers and fit them onto a solitary cocktail napkin. Though I needed the bar top for support. I ordered another glass of champagne and set up camp in my own little corner for the remainder of the cocktail hour. At all my other friends’ weddings, the ones I wasn’t in, this was the best hour of the evening. The newlywed’s and their wedding party would be off taking awkward prom photos while the guests were rewarded with snacks and booze.

            This one was different, though. Somewhere on the lawn behind me, it wasn’t a cousin or my sophomore year roommate taking photos; it was Camden.

            “Why the hell did I come? I mean, Evie had a point. 1) Why invite me? 2) Why would I accept? I’m single for fuck’s sake. If I were dating some handsome accomplished man then obviously, I’d attend. But Jesus, this has become the equivalent of going back to a ten-year reunion and 75% of your classmates forgetting that you graduated with them.”

            “You poor thing, did that actually happen to you?” The look of utter sadness on the Bartender’s face made me realize that it would be best for me to just lie.

            “Oh, god no. But you can imagine how awkward that might be.” I waved my arm around, referencing the room full of his family members I had come to know over the years. “I used to spend Christmas with half this lot. But today, Barely a head turn in my direction.”

            The Bartender had that sad look in his eyes again. “It’s fine,” I promised him.  “Their Christmas’ were shit anyways. It’s a blessing.”

            The dopey look on his face lead me to believe he wasn’t buying my story.

            “Really. I swear.”

            It was no use; his mind was made up about me- time to move on.

            I usually loathed assigned seating at weddings. I was forever getting sat with the extended family I hardly knew, or at the table right next to all the fun people. But in this case… I was counting my lucky stars. As one friend pointed out to a slew of men at a bar a few weeks back, I am ‘super single.’  

            Super single and in need of someone to tell me where to sit without the awkward attempt of having to try and make friends, now I just needed to find an appropriate time to sneak out for the night (hopefully) unscathed. Until then, here I was at the half-single/half-couples table that Camden & Bride clearly didn’t know what to do with.

            This is the age I’ve reached. There aren’t even enough single people left to fill up an entire table full of us. It was myself, George with the food allergies, Abby the friend from middle school who still lives next door to the Bride’s parents, the other two couples, and Seth, who was surprisingly attractive.

            That’s when he turned to me. “So, Bride’s side, or the Groom’s?”

Had I only had a single glass of champagne and a dinner plate worth of teeny appetizers in my belly I would have replied, ‘The Groom’s, he’s an old friend from University.’

If only.

Because I was on my fourth glass of champagne and only a card deck’s size of snacks, I decided to tell the one attractive single person at this wedding the history that lead me to this odd event. 

There’s no proper way to explain the way in which you love the people who never made sense enough to work out. Or how we allow ourselves to swim around in the moments you dreamt that ‘might have been.’ But that’s what makes it so easy to live in the past. If we only allowed ourselves to focus on the moments lived, well then, I’d imagine, there’d be no such thing as heartbreak. “Right?”

It hadn’t occurred to me that I had word vomited my previous internal dialogue all over my chances with Seth until that question had escaped my lips and was met with his horrified stare.

Suddenly, I remembered the original question.

“Right. So, yes, the Groom’s side.”

            Ten minutes into the dinner service, Seth disappeared to the bathroom. When he returned he was miraculously sat on the other side of Abby, leaving food allergy George to judge my dairy and nut infested salad.

            “There she is.” Rafe the Best Man has pulled a chair up beside me.

            Relief washed over me; a former friend, and a current drunk companion. “In the flesh,” I grinned.

            “I’ll be honest,” Rafe swayed a bit as he sat down. “The boys and I were taking bets on whether or not you’d show.”

            “The boys? Meaning?”

            He grimaced. “Yeah, even Camden thought you’d RSVP’d ‘yes’ just to off set them with an added dinner cost.” I. Was. Fuming.

            I was a pity invite expected to RSVP ‘no.’ One sad invite for the Bride, and one sad invite for the Groom? It made me wonder just who Allergy George was to the Bride. My inner rant was interrupted by the first of many mind-numbing speeches. Honestly, I blame the film ‘Rachel Getting Married’ for my aversion to wedding speeches. Every time I hear one, I wish I were as toasted as Anne Hathaway. But, to be fair, I was doing quite well here with a buzz of my own.

But two questions still remained. Why the hell were proper bets being taken over my arrival, or lack there of? And two; how to handle this new information? I’ve told myself we’ve been friends for years, so why wouldn’t I be included on the guest list? But the bare facts were that I had been invited to the wedding of my favourite ex. The one who is forever apart of your life, but that you never quite matched up with in time; mismatched rungs on a ladder.

What I didn’t expect was that Camden and his mates were having a laugh at my expense. At the moment, I was glad I’d only bought them a cheap set of napkin rings off their registry and nothing else. But in the midst of my inner emotional breakdown, Rafe had been brought the microphone to deliver his Best Man speech.  

This is my nightmare.

Because Rafe was next to me when his time had come around, every pair of eyes in the reception hall was set on him, and in turn… me. But Camden and his new forever were staring right through him, and onto me. It was one thing to sit and listen to all parties deemed important enough to speak and gush over this new union. But it was a whole other circle of hell to have the edge of an actual spotlight land on you because of Rafe’s exceptionally bad timing to pull me for a chat.

As he wrapped up his speech to the roar of laughter and applause, he sat back down and switched off the microphone. I turned to him. “Was the bet only if I’d show or not?”

Rafe has always been a horrible poker player; he gave up lying ages ago, so this was the perfect question to ask him. “Eh- no…”

“Well then?” I ushered him along.

“There’s a parlay as to whether or not you’d make a scene.”

Almost instantly, I clutched my glass with one hand and reached for the mic with the other. “Right. In that case, I hope you took the parlay.”

I don’t know what possessed me. The champagne, or, the annoyance over the entire day, but the bet alone was enough to drive me to this point I suppose, so why not let one of the lads end up with a handsome payoff.

I switched on the microphone. “Hello, good evening everybody.” I wasn’t drunk to the point of slurring. But I thought I’d let a few of the letters run together for good measure; dinner and a show.

“Strangely enough, most of you know me.” I spun around slowly so the room could get a good look. “Though, by the way you’ve all been avoiding me tonight, you’ve done well to convince me you’ve forgotten about me entirely.”

            I turned back towards Rafe. “Luckily for me, Best Man, Rafe here- reminded me that some of you lads remembered me quite well.” I zeroed in on Camden and his mortified Bride. His broad shoulders had shrunk down three times in size and her face had gone as bone white as her dress.

            “I just wanted to extend a toast to the Bride and Groom. May she find far more happiness with him, than I ever did.” A chain reaction of gasps rolled across the room. “I wish you both a very long and-“ Happy, was the word I was searching for, but fuck it. I wasn’t in the mood. “I wish you both an incredibly long marriage. One as long as I once hoped our friendship could have continued on for, Camden.”

I hoisted my drink in the air. “But who am I kidding? I ended up at your wedding because all of the others cancel out each other, and it’s always you left.” I realized I would have to flee immediately after this, and suddenly regretted not asking how much was in the pot for the parlay.

I downed the last of my champagne and raised my glass into the air as if to cheers the silenced room. “‘Cause you were my no sleep, cried for weeks, favourite ex.”

*Inspired by the first and last lyrics of Maisie Peters, “Favourite Ex”