Now, it wasn't your typical bach party. There was no wedding veil or obnoxious "Bride to Be" sash… we don't roll like that. It was just three friends from high school, out at a gay bar, drinking and dancing. We never got to do that stuff together when we were younger, so really it felt a lot like a mini reunion. We were making up for a lot of lost time. And Jesus did we ever...
Six double cranberry vodkas and several hours of dancing later… (why did we keep getting doubles? I don't even KNOW) and we are back at our hotel. My girlfriend and I are taking turns praying to the porcelain god... It is literally the most drunk I have EVER been.
*sigh* But it isn't me. It isn't. And it's not going to be. Not with him... Ever. And I am heartbroken all over again. Broken open, all over again.
And so here I am, two days later… the physical hangover has finally passed, but the emotional one will not pass likely for a few more days. And I know there is nothing I can do to make it pass any faster. There is nothing quite as devastating as walking into someone else's happy-ever-after and seeing what you were supposed to have had. What you thought you were going to have. What you would trade everything to have back.
There is just no pain in the world like that bitter, biting, slap in the face - the reality of what you do not have. It is a cold pain, with an icy burn like no other. No matter how long it has been, it twists itself right down into your soul.
So, I will breathe this week. And I will try to take it easy on myself, and maybe even convince myself to get excited about camp. I know it's gonna be awesome. A little at a time… I will begin to heal up again, until the next time I am broken open. As we keep doing.