It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m engaged! The first number I dial is my BFF, whom I’ve known since middle school Spanish class where we bonded over a love of tacos and terrible MTV reality shows. And out of every relative and friend, I was most excited to tell her the news. Although we lived in different states, we spoke on the phone every day, sent Galentine’s presents every February and flew out for visits once a year. I never had many girlfriends growing up, and I lost my only sister when I was 16. My best friend grew up an only child and didn’t have many girlfriends either. But we had each other.
And I thought my BFF was supposed to be my rock through the overwhelming and exciting process of planning my wedding. After all, that’s why we call them BFFs. Fast-forward six months and our friendship was over.
More than tips on how to save money on centerpieces or pick a cohesive color scheme, I wish someone had told me that planning a wedding can be an emotional pressure cooker for your friendships. Suddenly I was thrust into organizing the most important day of my life—a time when I could be selfish and rely on my closest friends and family for unconditional love and support. I was the first of my closest friends to get engaged, and I walked into wedding planning having been to one and a half weddings in my life—the half being when I was 5 and a flower girl. I didn’t know the traditions, the timeline, who pays for what, how to go dress shopping—heck, I didn’t know what a bustle was. I needed help, and when a girl needs help, she relies on her BFF. But it didn’t exactly work out that way.
More Dresses, MOH Problems
Almost immediately after getting engaged, I sent an elaborate package to my best friend asking her to be my maid of honor. I spared no expense because I wanted her to feel special and know how much she meant to me. The package was met with silence. No “thank you,” no gushing Instagram picture—maybe I was expecting too much. My best friend eventually responded via text saying “yes.” I was left with a sour curl in my stomach. Why wasn’t she excited?
Two months later, she flew out to go wedding dress shopping. I was bubbling with nerves and giddy to start the process. It was an out-of-body experience seeing my BFF glare and shrug at every dress I loved. Soon it became clear: We were shopping for her not me.
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After the third dress shop, she told me I shouldn’t invite my bridesmaids to the wedding because she didn’t want to “babysit” them. By BFF put down the other strong, brilliant women I had supporting me—and the worst part is I considered cutting them from my special day. At the fourth and last dress shop, after she shot down the perfect mermaid-style gown saying, “Ew, don’t wear that,” I panicked that I’d never find a dress and bought the last gown I tried on. (Flash-forward another five months and I hated the dress. I ended up finding “the one” on a solo trip, at a fraction of the cost.)
Crash the Bach
Sure, it’s only a dress, and so what if my BFF has strong opinions—that’s one reason I love her. I was still certain I’d get married with her by my side.
The final sign that my BFF wasn’t the friend I thought she was came when it was time to plan my bridal shower and bachelorette party. We set the dates, made an invite list, planned to have the event in her city because it would be easier for her, and discussed hotels. Two weeks before the dates, I called asking, “Should I get tickets soon?” None of my bridesmaids had been contacted and she ghosted me for another week before texting she couldn’t do it. No apology, no suggestion for changing the dates—just radio silence.
I was shocked, hurt and livid. I questioned my worth and felt terribly alone. The one person I really needed, whom I never expected to desert me—especially during my wedding—didn’t care. I often imagine if the situation was reversed and she was getting married. I’d go over the moon to plan an amazing bachelorette party. I’d read her emotions and support the dress she loved and the people she wanted at her wedding. It was impossible to understand her actions because they were simply unimaginable.
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Even today it saddens me that I didn’t have that big bachelorette experience you see in movies. In the end, I planned my own party; I sent the invites, bought decorations—the works. It was small but I loved how it came out.
Wonder Women
After a lot of self-reflection, replaying events, rereading text messages, and long tearful conversations with my fiancé, I realized my friendship with my BFF was always one-sided. It took my wedding to make me realize I deserved more support, so I decided to focus on those who were supporting me—the friends and relatives rushing to congratulate me, send cards, provide help and cheers the wedding.
I’ve been planning for 14 long months, and in May 2018, I’ll walk down the aisle without a maid of honor, but with three bridesmaids. One of my bridesmaids is a woman I went to college with, whom I haven’t seen in over a year but is always the first to text me with emotional support, and is driven, passionate and happy for me. The other two bridesmaids I’ve known since high school, and they’re ecstatic for my day and busy coming up with a girl gang name for us to hashtag at the wedding.
If I can give new brides one piece of advice, it’s to be ready for friendships to change—even break—during the wedding process, and to know it’s for the best. The sooner you surround yourself with people who are supportive, honest and kind, the better your life will be. And at the end of the day, the only two people you should care about at your wedding is you and your partner.
