John's Wedding

My ex husband, John, is getting married.
At the end of May, he started seeing a girl.
A week later he told me he was introducing said girl to our son.
Two weeks after that, they got engaged.


If you're tracking, and the timeline is correct, he's known her about a month.

The wedding is next month.
Their wedding falls on a weekend when I would normally have the kid.
I asked if we should trade weekends. The Bride to Be, or Princess Elsa as she will henceforth be known, was quick to jump in with, "We don't want to switch weekends."

Instantly in my head, I think, look at this bitch trying to cut Connor our of the wedding, not that he will care.

"We will be busy with wedding stuff but want Connor to be the ring bearer. We thought you could bring him and come to the wedding. Do you want to come to the wedding? We want you to come to the wedding."

WeddingWeddingWeddingWeddingWeddingWeddingWeddingWeddingWeddingWedding

There, with the two of them beaming at me with the fervor of cult members, chanting wedding, I acquiesce and say I'll do whatever they need me to do.

That was last night.
This morning I wake up and know, there is NO way I can go to this thing.

While we were getting divorced, we attended, separately, a wedding for mutual friends. Seeing John up there as a groomsman was very, very hard. Having John's brother and sister-in-law play with my kid, but ignore my very existence was crushing. Sitting at a table by myself with a 3 year old while 70 happy people celebrated around me was miserable.

There is no fucking way I'm going to John's wedding.

Setting aside the theories that he's inviting me to throw this in my face, or that this is to show off what a "great post-divorce relationship" we have, or to have me as a free babysitter for our son, there is no way I want to spend a weekend this way.