I used to be close friends my roommate, Michelle, in the last two years of college. We were so close that we often mused about our future weddings. Toole on the dress? Lace? Pink and white flowers? Black matching bridesmaid gowns? Of course, we would both serve as bridesmaids on our wedding days. We often visited (we are four hours away in distance) on and off after college. When I gave birth to Andrew, a year had passed with few words, but I managed to keep Michelle in the loop about my budding new motherhood and the increasing mania of my ex.
Imagine my surprise when my dear friend’s name change was announced on LinkedIn a week ago.
Michelle had married her on-again/off-again boyfriend of four years. Their lives were tumultuous to say the least, with Brandon failing to bring in a steady income, lying about finishing his bachelors and his penchant for all things good-ole’-country-boy, like mud-boggin’ and huntin’ (his words). As long as I knew about Michelle’s relationship, she made excuses and complained about Brandon in the same breath.
Since I retired (deleted) my Facebook account over a year ago, I could only view her wedding pictures through a mutual friend. It was a pretty wedding, resplendent with mason jars, hay, large daises, camouflaged tuxedos and cowgirl boots. There was even a photo of the two brandishing hunting rifles in their formal attire.
But I had to ask, where was my wedding invitation from the girl who once called me her “sister from another mister?”
Deep down I knew. Michelle was always settling for men below her, who treated her with apathy or sporadic interest. Her past three boyfriends were a testament to this fact. Whenever she ranted about Brandon or her other boyfriend’s ill treatment, I reminded her that she didn’t have to settle. She’d agree, but not long after, I’d get a text that she was back with her significant other.
Now, I’ve had a little experience with settling for men way below me, so I’m not any better than Michelle with my track record. Dating can be exasperating and a little scary.
So, I reached out and asked her why she didn’t invite me, or tell me for that matter. After some hemming and hawing, Michelle chalked it up to losing all her contacts on her missing cell phone. I would’ve preferred that it was just lost in the mail.
Although they say misery loves company, if she’s happy, than so am I. I just hope she didn’t settle.