A year ago, my sister was married. Facebook has been doing a wonderful job of smearing it in my face for the last few days. It makes me really, really sad.
First, I’m terribly jealous. She had the big family wedding, with a reception, and a DJ, and a pro photographer. Not only that, but she looked fucking amazing. When we had our official wedding, I looked like a 5-foot tall marshmallow. The people that mattered showed up, and our ceremony was held in the one place I’d always dreamed of being married, but I still wish it could’ve been different. Not huge, but I’d have liked to have had more family to celebrate with.
Second, I look at the pictures of her wedding, and I remember how much fun I had there. It was the first major family function I went to with “the new body”. I looked good. I danced, I drank, and I didn’t worry about anything. Now, when I see the pictures and remember the fun, all I can think of is how fucking happy I was that night, and how sharply that contrasts with that morning a month later when everything fell apart. I think back to the one, maybe two dances we had together. Then I think about how I kept trying to come out to dance with me, and he would shake his head and tell me he couldn’t dance, nevermind that I can’t dance. All I can do is imagine what how he spent the night at the table, making small talk with the family and probably chatting with a dozen chicks, while I was on the dancefloor.
Alone.
