Page 11 of Four Weddings to Fall in Love
“So?”Iris says.“How was your night?Did catching the bouquetmeansomething?”
“Fuck, no.”I drain my first cup of coffee.“The fact that I caught the bouquet was…unfortunate.”I tried my best not to catch it.I really did.Someone who wants to get married deserved that honor.
“I hope you at least had a good time after you left the reception?”
I look at Alex, whom I don’t know all that well.He starts to get up.
“No, it’s fine,” I say.“You can stay.Last night didn’t meet my expectations, let’s just say that.”
Iris is immediately alarmed.“What happened?Did he—”
“I wasn’t in any danger,” I assure her.“He just wasn’t great in bed, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Iris mimes zipping her lips.
After breakfast, I finish packing up, check out, and start the long drive back to Toronto.
One wedding down, three to go.
I might not want to get married myself, but some people do seem to enjoy marriage.I admit I find it baffling, but there it is.And weddings themselves can be kind of fun.Dancing, food, friends you haven’t seen in a while…
I didn’t go to any weddings for two years because of the pandemic, and I only had one wedding last year.I missed it a little, truth be told, although three more weddings in less than three months seems like a bit much.Especially since my parents are going to be at all of them.
Yep, I just wasted my best chance to hook up at a wedding on Max.
I heard him leave in the middle of the night; I was just pretending to be asleep because I didn’t want to talk to him.To his credit, I don’t think he’s under any delusions that last night was good for me.I suspect that’s why he snuck out and didn’t leave a note.
The sex wasn’t the worst I’ve had, but it was over so quickly and I didn’t feel satisfied.I thought he’d care more about my pleasure rather than falling asleep two seconds after coming.Instead, I used my vibrator—I often travel with my rabbit vibrator—and gave myself an orgasm this morning.
I’m usually good at picking out hot men who will give me what I want in bed, but last night, I failed.
I seem to be off my game.
The following Saturday, I have dinner with my family.
“Kim!”my mother shouts as I sit down across from her.
Why is she shouting?It’s a small table, and the restaurant isn’t as busy as it sometimes is.Is she losing her hearing?Do I need to convince her to go to the doctor?
I don’t say any of that.I merely greet her with, “Hi, Mom.”
For a few minutes, she focuses on ordering, complaining that the prices have gone up.
She’s right; they have.For the first time in, like, four years.
I think the restaurant is entitled to raise their prices every now and then.
Believe it or not, I’m the good daughter.Sure, I sleep around—my mom would freak out if she knew—but I have a respectable profession, and I stayed in Toronto, which means I can see my family every month.
Still, you wouldn’t know it from the way my parents complain.Lately, it’s about the fact that I haven’t gotten married and at thirty-two, I’m getting old.My mother keeps sending me articles about how pregnancy becomes harder and riskier with age.
“You’re losing weight,” she complains.
“I’m not,” I say.
Last month, she complained that I was gaining weight, but my weight has stayed exactly the same.The only consistent thing is that it’s never right in her eyes.
But if she thinks I’m losing weight, maybe she’ll try to heap extra food on my plate.My mom might grumble about the prices, but the food hereisgood.Some of the online reviewers don’t approve of the service—there are no smiling, cheerful servers here—but who needs that?
