I Didn’t Stop the Wedding

Right now, I am eating a ginormous, delicious piece of cake–chocolate and vanilla layers with fluffy vanilla buttercream in between and gooey chocolate fudge on top–and I’m doing so because I didn’t get any at the wedding.

Now, don’t think that it wasn’t my own doing that caused this lack of dessert, for it was; I didn’t get any cake because I deliberately chose to not stay for the reception. Yes, right after the ceremony, I, as well as the rest of my family who was in attendance, booked it out of there as fast as we could. We didn’t care about any cake–or food or drinks or partying or family or friends or pictures or whatever else there is to be had at a wedding reception–and we especially didn’t care about the bride or groom. The only thing that mattered to us was getting there and then promptly getting the heck back out. Screw everything else! We were to do our duty then go.

Now, this probably seems very rude, and I agree that it is. But I do not regret it one bit, for, as the saying goes, you should treat others how you wish to be treated; we were only very rude and inconsiderate because the bride and groom were to us…and to the rest of my family who, because of it, ended up not attending the wedding at all (perks of being relatives of a relative, I guess). At the end of the day, it was only fair to not give the bride and groom our time on their special day because they hadn’t given anyone their time all week.

So here’s the full context of this wedding, since I’m sure you’re a little confused right now.

My cousin, who we will call Bob (for privacy), is a very immature 20-year-old from a small country town about an hour away from the city in which I live. He’s been incredibly immature and a bit off-the-wall for all his life, but he’s always been my only cousin (until the past 10 months), and so I’ve loved him nonetheless.

Well, a little over two years ago (so when he just turned 18), he met a girl. Let’s call this girl Mary, again for privacy. Now, I don’t know their exact story (except what the priest told us at their wedding: that he messaged her on Facebook with a ‘hey,’ and then they hit it off from there *rolls eyes as far back into her head as they can go due to the childishness, hoping that said rolling will somehow damage her brain, end her life, and thus put her out of her current misery*), but what I do know is that he brought her on vacation with my family two years ago, where we met her for the first time and genuinely liked her (except for her tobacco chewing habit…blech). During that week, we were told that she was only his best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Okay, fine. Nothing wrong with that, right? Two best friends who very obviously have a little crush on each other? Totally innocent! What could ever go wrong?

Babies. That’s what could go wrong.

Yes, what seemed to be only two months later, we found out that the two were actually a couple and that Bob had gotten Mary pregnant. At ages 18 and 19 and with the maturity levels of the average 10-year-old, Bob and Mary were going to be parents.

Yaaaaay….

(That should be read with a very deflated, sarcastic tone of voice.)

So fast-forward nine months, and they have a baby. Then fast forward about six more months, and Bob and Mary, even though only 19-going-on-20 and just-turned-21, decide to get married. Fast forward two more months, and they decide to go on vacation with my family again…and get married while there.

Okay, cool. That’s totally fine. My mom’s sister got married a few years ago when we were all on vacation, and it was a great experience. So what could go wrong with this?

Bridezillas. That’s what could go wrong.

So, Mary was a jerk all week. And by jerk, I mean a female dog. Bi-atch. I mean, the first day of the trip, she didn’t even look at anyone else! She was too preoccupied with ‘going to Kmart to get her nails done’ *rolls eyes while clenching teeth* to worry about anyone else, even her soon-to-be mother-in-law (my dad’s sister) who was stuck in the backseat of their car for 9 hours with about 20 bags piled on top of her…even though she can barely even walk because her rheumatoid arthritis is that bad.

The thought that went through my head when first seeing that: Okay, white trash, you can leave now.

But at the time, we thought it was just wedding stress or such making Mary, who we used to really like and think was a genuinely kind girl and good mother despite her youth and immaturity, into such a witch. However, when my aunt sat down and starting talking with my mother the next day, we were proven very wrong. Very, very wrong.

So it turns out that Mary is some sort of…gold digger? (Yes, Kanye, I’m looking at you for the official definition.)

Basically, as soon as she was tied to my cousin Bob by a baby, she starting showing to my aunt her true colors, and they were not pretty!

Mary takes all of their money and spends it on herself, every single dime she gets (and she only just got a part-time job at Victoria’s Secret…*rolls eyes in anger again*). She leaves her child with my aunt, who can barely move, for hours on end, saying she’s only getting a shower but then leaving the house entirely without even saying a word about it. She tricked my aunt into cosigning on their new car, so the loan is in my aunt’s and cousin’s names…and not hers…which means she’s not responsible for paying anything…yet she doesn’t let anyone else drive the car…. She takes my aunt’s parking spot in front of their home, and if my aunt is parked there, she makes my cousin get up and physically move my aunt’s car so that she can be close to the house and not my aunt (because she’s a lazy piece of trash and horrible human being who doesn’t care about anyone but herself, even when the person she’s being inconsiderate towards can barely even walk because her joints are literally eating themselves!!!!).

I’m sorry, let me take a moment to calm down. Deep breaths now, Leah. Deep breaths…

Okay, let’s try this again:

She refuses to leave the second floor of the house to talk to my aunt, and if my cousin tries to talk to her, Mary forces him back upstairs. Mary also refuses to do any chores, leaving a two story home for my aunt to try to hobble around and clean–and, again, if my cousin tries to help, the she-devil forces him back upstairs.

…Yet my aunt is gracious enough to let them live there rent-free (even though she’s not very well-off money-wise) because they are just two idiot kids with poorly paying jobs and a new baby…

And again I say TRASH.

Oh, and if their pets start showing affection for my aunt, Mary takes them upstairs and won’t let them back down to see her for months. MONTHS. Because she’s a jealous witch who doesn’t care that the only things my aunt has left in life are those pets and her son and her granddaughter. Speaking of which, Mary does the same exact thing, as well, when her child starts showing a preference to my aunt–except that she only keeps her upstairs until she needs her to be babysat again, of course.

TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH

And the sad thing is that that isn’t even the half of it. Telling it all would take too long, so I’m leaving the majority of it out.

Sigh…

Well, my mother found this out on the second day of our vacation, and she relayed it to everyone on the third. Needless to say, the horrible behavior that Mary and Bob were showing suddenly all made sense; they weren’t good kids who were stressed out. They were always that horrible and were always taking advantage of everyone around them, ignoring others unless they needed a favor. They were just trashy, horrible human beings, and right then and there, my family decided that that was it; they were never to be allowed back. From then on, from my dad’s side of the family (which is only his sister, my cousin, and his new wife *gag*), only my aunt would be allowed back on vacations. (And also in my family’s house, as my dad, who wasn’t able to go on this trip due to work, decided when my mother, sister, and I returned home and told him everything we had learned.)

So this brings us to the wedding. All week, my whole family, who loved Bob and Mary going into this vacation, had to just sit back in horror and cringe and rage and fume as they watched the two idiots treat their mother horribly and then treat the rest of us just as bad, for as much as we wanted to speak up, we really couldn’t; that’s my aunt’s job. So all week, the only thing we could do was pray for their behavior to lessen up, for them to grow up, for it all to not be so bad. And it was absolute torture doing so, which caused everyone not directly related to Bob and Mary (so everyone but my aunt, my mom, my sister, and me) to, by the end of the week, refuse to go to the wedding.

Except for another of my aunts, of course (my mother’s brother’s wife), for she’s a photographer and was who they chose to take their pictures.

Notice how I said “chose” instead of “hired.”

Like I said, trash.

Well, all week, this, their behavior and not being able to do anything about it, broke my heart. I had to just sit back and watch these two wreak havoc, sit back and watch the little she-devil Mary further destroy my cousin Bob. Because he may have always been immature and kind of weird, but he was never a jerk. He was always kind and helpful and obedient, especially to his mother. But ever since they started dating, he completely changed. She changed him, and by marrying her, he was forever doomed. And it broke my heart.

For a good many days, I sincerely considered having a talk with him and trying to get him to stop the wedding. I was going to tell him exactly how I felt about it all and see if I could get him to take it to heart. We were never really that close growing up, so I figured that if I, of all people, said something to him, it would strike him and maybe mean something. Maybe coming out of the blue to tell him what was up could save him still.

But the longer and longer I thought on it, the less and less I felt I should. There are many reasons why I felt that way; I didn’t want to cause any more drama than there already was, I didn’t want to make him hate me and my family (because, apparently, as my aunt told us that week, we’re the only relatives he actually likes), I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries with me not being so close to him and all, etc, etc. And so, at the end of the week, I didn’t speak to him. I didn’t try to stop the wedding.

Nope, instead I just kept sitting back and watched in pain and agony as idiot Bob married idiot Mary in the bright sunshine on a warm, breezy beach, and as I did, I told myself that I shouldn’t be upset. Rather, I should be happy, for this is exactly what they wanted. And so they are happy, at least for now, which brings me much happiness, too, as it should; this kind of relationship can only end badly, and even though I know that way before they ever will, I also know that it, their inevitable bad ending, will end up teaching them both a much needed lesson. Yes, everything will work out just the way it is supposed to, most likely with a divorce, and they will both end up better because of it. Hopefully. And even if they don’t, well, I can’t say that I wouldn’t still be glad; with the way they currently treat others, it would most definitely be some much deserved karma that would certainly put a bright smile right across my face, as mean as that is. So if they’re happy, fine. I’m happy, too, and I know that everyone else around them is, as well.

But I can tell you right now that I’m the only one who’s happy because they are; everyone else is only happy because the two are finally out of their hair.

So, yeah, I didn’t stop the wedding, and I’m glad for it. As Proverbs 13:3 says, “He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life: but he that openeth wide his lips shall have destruction.” I kept my mouth shut, but they didn’t. So we shall see how this plays out.

Although, hopefully that “openeth wide his lips” only applies to physically spoken speech, for I am writing this right now. And I am still eating that cake…

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