Maid Of Shame: A Wedding Tale Gone Wrong

bride laughing at maid of honor, maid of honor horror stories

Being named a Maid of Honor is such, well, an honor! You feel so amazing that a friend found you special enough to have you stand right next to her on her special day.  And let’s not forget that if you’re single, it opens up a whole door to the groomsmen and extended family. Oh, the possibilities!

That was at least my mindset when this honor was bestowed upon me. Reeling after a tough break up, I was ready to take on this task with gumption (give me something else to obsess about) and meet a slew of new guys in the process. I threw a phenomenal wedding shower with lavish decorations, I planned a kick ass bachelorette party in Vegas (where all of our secrets stayed) and tried on every bridesmaid dress under the sun until she found the one she wanted her bridesmaids to don as we floated down the aisle! I corresponded regularly with the mother-of-the-bride and even checked in on the soon-to-be-groom occasionally.

On a scale of 1-10, I was at least a solid 9 right up until the day of the rehearsal dinner. That’s when the wheels started to fall off.

This was the night I met the groomsmen. And to my horror, there were two single ones – and they were single for a reason. No chance for any sparks – or even casual hook ups. It wasn’t gonna happen.  And as we sat down to feast, I got hit with another blow as I was notified of an Instagram post by my ex (yes, I love to torture myself) that showed him with his arms around a pretty, little blonde bombshell. And BOOM – just like that, shit went downhill fast.

From what I have pieced together from friends (those who are still speaking to me), I immediately became the “shot” girl.  I began (loudly) ordering shots for everyone – apparently even under age attendees and was reprimanded twice by adults. Eeeeeek.

Apparently, I also hit a self-pity phase as I have seen photographic evidence taken of me in the women’s bathroom where I am crying obnoxiously and my girlfriends are trying to console me. And yes, the bride is one of those supporters. Double eeeeek. Not how the bride should be spending her rehearsal dinner.

Later, I hit the dance floor where I inappropriately danced with every married guy and upset quite a few spouses. Oh, and somewhere along the way – I dropped a wine glass that shattered and also insulted an older woman by slapping her ass and telling her to “live it up.”

Now, I have to remind you that as the maid of honor, I was also given the wonderful and important job of escorting the bride back to her hotel suite at midnight and had glorious plans to stay in her room with her that night.  Well, I think we all know how this ended.

Not only did that not happen, but I woke up in the front lawn of the hotel when the sprinklers came on just before the sun came up. No one knows how I got there (but from what I heard, I was impossible to babysit and would constantly run away from anyone who was trying to watch out for me). Luckily for me, one of my single friends attending the wedding answered their cell phone and let me into the “single room” with two double beds and girls’ bodies lying everywhere. I fit right in and found a cozy block of mattress at the end of a double bed and fell drunkenly asleep.

I was awoken suddenly about three hours later to my phone blowing up as I was late for my hair appointment with the bride. I didn’t have any of my clothes so I just ran out of the room in my dress from the night before and headed down to the hair salon in the lobby. One of my friends promised to go grab my bag so I could come up and get ready quickly as soon as I was done. Phew.

It was a devastatingly bad look for me – but I was already 25 minutes late and did my best to wipe off my makeup from the night before in the elevator, as I walked into the salon. The bride, thankfully laid back and sweet, merely laughed at me and got me a trash can to put by my chair, which I embarrassingly used twice in one hour. By the time my hair was done, I was somewhat sober and remorseful. I apologized profusely to the bride and promised that I was on point for the rest of the day. I was going to redeem myself – she need not to worry!

With my tail between my legs, I ran back up to the room because I was bound and determined to get ready quickly and spend the rest of the day with my best friend – attending to her every need.

I didn’t have a key or my purse but knew the girls would let me in. As I walked into the room, it was empty but luckily for me, the cleaning lady was in the room so I quickly entered and jetted into the bathroom. I figured they all headed to breakfast and literally ripped off my dress and jumped in the shower. I didn’t care that the room was being cleaned. I had to stay focused, and I needed to rinse off fast.

About three minutes into my cleansing, the shower curtain was ripped back by a man and a woman standing there screaming at me. Startled and terrified, I dropped to my knees in the shower, attempting to clutch the hotel shower curtain (simultaneously soaking my newly done up-do wedding hair) and began screaming for help. Clearly, I was about to be murdered by serial killers who prayed upon women in hotel showers!

As I screamed for someone to save me, they reassured me that they had already called hotel security because I HAD BROKEN INTO THEIR ROOM. Yep, my blurred memory led me to the room NEXT DOOR to where I stayed, and I had mistakenly entered a random room and showered while they had stepped out for coffee. The hotel security soon showed up, and I was basically drug out of the hotel room as the woman continued to scream at me. I was lucky that they let me put my dress on…barely. But I didn’t even have time to grab my shoes, bra or underwear. I was escorted down to the lobby like a criminal – dripping wet, hair ruined, sobbing crying and no undergarments on.

And who was standing in the hotel lobby? My beautiful best friend looking perfect, her mother and her new mother-in-law. The look on their faces when they saw me is still burned in the back of my mind. I can only imagine what they must have thought of me at that point – but needless to say – they came to my defense and after pleading with hotel management, no charges were pressed and I was “released.”

While I tried to talk to the bride, her mother calmly asked that I simply go back to my real hotel room, take a nap, get cleaned up and come down just before the wedding (and not a minute sooner).

I obeyed. Humiliated and ashamed.

I ate some greasy room service and felt sorry for myself for a few hours. I called my mom and she gave me a pep talk (after scolding me and reminding me that I could have been killed multiple times). But she knew I was in a bad place after my break up and told me to pull myself together – hold my chin up and finish strong. She also convinced me to not go looking for my bra and underwear – that was collateral damage – and I needed to move on.

Luckily, I did just that. That evening, I merely sipped on some alcohol and tried to be the best damn maid of honor that anyone could ask for. I nailed my speech and danced with every relative in the room. I showed up at the after party with fast food for everyone and cleaned up the hotel room and made sure there was room service waiting for the bride and groom that night and for breakfast the next morning. I was down in the lobby kissing them both before they headed to off to their honeymoon. I also sent them an amazing bottle of wine and chocolate strawberries to their room in Hawaii.

I would like to think all the good outweighed all the bad. But who knows. I’m sure there have been sooooo many whispers and tall tales told of my behavior.

I am most grateful that the bride and I are still besties. Our friendship has made it through some rough times and this was a small blip. After she returned from her honeymoon, we got together and laughed about the whole ordeal. And we of course, erased all physical evidence of my behavior from both our phones.

But her mother – that is a whole different story. After the dust settled and my bruised ego healed a bit, my best friend did admit to me that her mom refers to me as the Maid of Shame when she retells the wedding story.

Title deserved. I brought no honor to my important role.  But it does make for one hell of a Maid of Honor story!

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SHEnonymous

I give a voice to the women who are concerned about sharing their story publicly. My mission is to give a voice to the women who want to start conversations, but who are concerned with sharing their identity, for one reason or another. My posts don’t reveal personal details that can identify particular people nor do I promote bullying or bashing others. I am designed to give women who can’t share their names an equal voice in the important conversations we are having at She In The CLE. Want me to share your story? Submit a post at http://www.sheinthecle.com/she-speaks/.

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