I met Brandon on Plenty of Fish because let’s be honest, I just moved to New York City a few months ago, and any money I make seems to evaporate into thin air, so shelling out $40/month on a Match subscription just isn’t in the cards considering the lack of funds in my bank account.
Brandon was hot. He had blond hair and blue eyes which looked especially adorable when framed by the worn out brim of his Syracuse baseball cap. Despite him being a few years my junior, we began spending a generous amount of time together relatively quickly.
When you click, you click? Right?
A few weeks into our courtship I had a wedding to attend for one of my good friends from childhood which just so happened to be in upstate New York, not far from the city. Since I had already RSVP’d to bring a plus one months ago for a previous boyfriend, I decided to invite Brandon, and he (thankfully) accepted.
As we sat on the Metro North I was excited to show up with my handsome, younger man looking dapper in his tuxedo for this black tie affair and introduce him to my high school peers.
When we got to the hotel, Brandon suggested we go enjoy the pool for a few hours before the nuptials were to begin. I figured a sun kissed glow would be the perfect compliment to my light yellow gown, so we put on our swim suits to catch some rays.
After an hour or so, I told Brandon I was going to start getting ready. Being a formal event and an unofficial high school reunion, I wanted to give myself a healthy amount of time to make sure I looked my best.
About 30 minutes before we were supposed to leave for the ceremony, Brandon still hadn’t come back to the room to shower. I returned to the pool deck only to find him shooting the shit with the bar tender and enjoying a full glass of beer.
“Brandon, what the hell?! We need to leave in 30 minutes!”
“Oh shit! Sorry, lost track of time. Let me just finish this and I will be right out.”
Brandon proceeded to pour an entire pint of Guinness down in gullet and returned to the room with me.
In the elevator, he gave me a quick peck on the lips to which I cringed in disgust at the putrid stench of tequila.
“Have you been drinking tequila?”
“The bar tender and I got to talking and we just did a few shots. What’s the big deal?”
Though Brandon’s words were slightly slurred, we made it to the chapel on time. During the brief ceremony, I heard a loud snore coming from next to me. To my horror, me along with everyone else noticed my date, head back, mouth open, and passed out. I gave him a sharp nudge and his little nap was immediately cut short.
While chatting up some old classmates at the cocktail hour, I glanced over at the bar and noticed my escort taking a shot of what looked to be whiskey. This was followed by another shot, then a pint of Guinness. I warned Brandon that we had a long night ahead of us and he needed to remain composed until at least after dinner.
As we sat down for our meals, Brandon ordered a glass of cabernet. It was clear to the rest of our table that he was quite inebriated and I insisted he lower his obnoxious voice and trade the wine for some high quality H2O.
When the bride and groom approached our table to express their appreciation, Brandon got a little too excited. Though he had never met these people before, he eagerly jumped up and sloppily extended his hand out to greet theirs like Mr. Personality.
I don’t know what happened, but as he tried to regain his balance and stand up straight he dropped his wine glass on the floor and it smashed into a million pieces.
The maroon liquid splashed all over the bride’s shiny white satin gown.
The bride quickly dashed out of the reception hall to desperately try and salvage her precious wedding gown. It was apparently unsalvageable, as she returned donning the off white rehearsal dinner dress she wore the previous evening.
I condemned Brandon back to our hotel room, and when I returned for the evening he was (thankfully) nowhere to be found and never to be heard from again aside from the pathetic apology he attempted to offer a week later.