Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • “Oh, no!”

    “Crap!”

    “What did I just do?! How did I even get up here?!”

    It must have been the Bloody Mary’s, mixed with sunlight warming the dance floor, that loosened my style and slid me front and center.
    Or maybe the collective threads in our female consciousness spun me to it.....surrendering to my subconscious uncharacteristic nature and including myself in a stereotypical act.

    It is all a blur to me now, except the bright memories of the day that blossomed spontaneous friendships from expected events of unity.

    In panic and disbelief I attempted to kill two birds with one bouquet, as I approached the bridesmaid in a dress I had been eyeing all morning and would love to have as my own.
    THE PERFECT LITTLE BLACK DRESS!

    “Hi. Ummmm,......(scrambling to deliver the message without appearing to be an ungrateful rude bitch) I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?”

    She begins to compliment me up and down from my “catch” to the catch that I am. I then compliment her on her great dress, ask where I can get it and on and on we go......

    *Ponder: Why do women do that?! Again, feels so subconscious. Like we won’t be granted access to one another and the conversation will crumble if we don’t build it on a foundation of sappy sweet adoration?! So bizarre and so unnecessary, yet I have found myself int his position more than I care to admit.*


    When we couldn’t find anymore compliments to exchange without being obviously overboard, we were back to the blooming question.....

    “I really feel uncomfortable (on several levels) taking this home and feel the bride should have it to cherish her special day with. I don’t even know her.....I am her husband’s friend’s date and I am sure she would like someone else (ANYONE ELSE) to have it. Please make sure she gets it, ok?!”

    She blinds me with her whites, grabs the bouquet and says, “That is so sweet, honey! I will give her the message.”

    10 minutes pass and I feel a tap on my right shoulder, turning around to the bride in my face.

    She shoves the flowers into my hands with a force that clearly states she is DONE with them and says, “You’re next, Bitch and I AM coming!!”

    Now I’m in love! This girl was the stuff dream friendships were made of! How dare you call me a bitch as we first meet?! But she did.....and I loved it.

    I look at the dried petals, pictures of the bouquet before it wilted into a barely recognizable version of it’s former self, and my first trip to Brooklyn, as a day I got less caught up and more received.

    The reception caught ME and I am forever grateful.

    Genuine beauty and authenticity of individuals can be hard to find, but the frigid temps of that December day were no match for the warmth that flowed between strangers and the long lost. It was love in fluid form.

    As intended, I recycled the energy of those flowers. Not in planning my own wedding, but in preparing a gift for theirs. Creating a beautiful bath of pink salts and silk petals with the attached intention for a couple to soak up the love and joy that was created that day, not just for them, but by them.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.