It is two days to the wedding and I still haven’t collected my dress from my designer (they don’t like to be called tailors)
She is not just my designer; she is also family, and knows all about this groom and my feelings. Most people know even my mum.
I didn’t pick any particular design for the dress. I couldn’t care less. I just told her to make something long and comfortable. I keep envisioning the wedding with me in the blue ashebi and in my mind’s eye it’s a sleeveless long dress. Not that I wear sleeveless, (don’t ask me why I see sleeveless in the vision because I do not know).
My phone rings it’s my friend, the groom’s sister she called to tell me she has arrived Bayelsa in preparation for the wedding and wants to find out if I have gotten my dress yet.
I make a mental note to call the tailor, sorry designer. Then I pause for a moment to wonder why she is going through all this trouble to make sure I come for this wedding.
A part of me does not want to go and see him getting married but the other part that always wants to put a lid on everything says “ Baby girl it’s a must go”. Maybe it will help me move on I conclude.
So I resolve to go.
Fast forward, two days later I am in Bayelsa, it’s the D-day and I’m supposed to help my friend at the reception to make sure everything goes smoothly.
I step into the hall wearing my blue dress. No it’s not sleeveless. It’s a long fitted dress with an elbow length sleeve. I look good in it I think.
I see my friend and we hug briefly while she tells me what she needs me to do: “Make sure the reserved tables are held till the persons they are meant for arrive” and other stuff.
So we set out to do just that along with a couple of other girls who I happen to know.
So I’m sort of busy and I was starting to think I was doing well, almost giving myself a mental pat on the back.
Then I hear the MC announce it’s time to usher in the bride and the groom.
That’s when it hit me.
I was standing close to the aisle when I heard this. I said to myself “Girl you got to sit down for this “I didn’t trust myself enough to stand there and watch them dance by so I find a sit in a corner, trying to force down the tears that suddenly threatened to spill.
And in they walked, and guess what? The bride is not far from the person I saw in my dream. How weird can that be?
I cannot beat my chest and say it’s the same face, I can’t remember the face in my dream vividly but I know she was not far from it. The same physique, the same complexion.
They are dancing and I’ smiling but my heart is bleeding. Then I say to myself. “Shey you will rest now abi?”
Its officially over, signed and sealed.
So I muster all the courage inside of me and set about doing my business. Making sure everything goes like clockwork. I really love doing this so it comes effortlessly for me. Soon I am lost in the organizing frenzy, oblivious of what is going on with the wedding party.
I was still watching over the last reserved table when this guy comes from nowhere and ushers in three people to the table! “The table is reserved” I say giving him a look that could have scared Khal Drogo (Game of thrones).
He wasn’t scared one bit. He was about to respond when my friend’s husband comes to his rescue. Telling me the seats were actually reserved for them. I move on to other stuff.
The rest of the day passes in a blur with no real drama.
Party over and the groom gives his vote of thanks. I am ready to leave but I need to do one more thing.
He needs to know I am here. So I try to catch his eye from where I am standing, hoping to just wave at him before I leave. I keep staring but he is not looking my way. The bride is.
She is staring at me from where she is sitting and she knows I am trying to catch his eye and is probably wondering who I was.
So I just wait till the final prayers were said. Then I moved. I don’t know where the courage came from but I’m strong like that and I like to confront my fears head on. I wanted it to sink into the incurable romantic the fact that this book was closed.
I walk up to where they are sitting. He sees me, he smiles and we hug and he tells her: “This is my very good friend”. She is smiling at me but I think the smiles don’t reach her eyes. (could be my imagination).
Mission accomplished, I head back to my hotel mentally praising myself for being so brave. I have work to do so I don’t have time to think when I get to my room.
But by bed time, with no distractions it hit me! He just got married and it wasn’t me.
I feel bitter. Then again I feel ashamed of myself for feeling that way over the happiest day of someone else’s life.
So I just cry a little. Then I put three pillows over my head and I force myself to sleep. I am exhausted from the day’s activities so sleep comes easy.
I wake up early and I don’t feel any better so I cry some more. I get up to blow my nose and I look in the mirror and I just feel sorry for myself the more I look ugly when I cry. ( LOL).
So I’m alone in the hotel room and I wish there was something to distract me.
I need to talk to someone desperately so I call my friend and He tells me I’ll be fine and its okay for me to cry. I have round of crying and feel better afterwards.
Three hours later my phone rings and it’s my friend calling to thank me for helping out. Then she says: You were wonderful yesterday; we’ve all been talking about you there is someone here that’s been tripping for you since yesterday. We are coming over to your hotel now.
I say: Huh?
Diary of an incurable romantic 