There is nothing like a wedding to bring some love into the world. The bride looks lovely. Men wear suits. But then you have a wedding guest who shows up in a mini dress to the evening do. And the best man is a bloody perv.
When one of my friends got married, I was invited to the evening do. I was probably just invited to fill up space. I didn't have a "proper" outfit. Or anything decent. So I showed up in a mini dress. I admit, I probably looked like a hooker. But it was the evening do, it wasn't like I rolled up to the church in a black mini dress and knee high boots, looking like the Bride of Satan. The problem with the outfit I was wearing was not the fact it was inappropriate, slutty, or anything else like that. It was how it attracted the attention of the best man.
I had never meet the best man before this night. I didn't know many of the people who were there. I knew the bride, the brides parents....and that's it. I'm not sure if I had met the groom before the wedding. I was a random person at a wedding. And I ended up stuck with the best man.
When I met him, I didn't like him. He creeped me out. So I hid in the ladies room and phoned my best male friend. I begged him to come down. I didn't want to leave, it would have been rude because I had only arrived. So I begged my friend to come. He couldn't. He couldn't get a taxi and his bike needed new spark plugs. He was housebound for the night. And I was on my own.
When I went back into the party, I headed to the bar for a drink. What I saw was the groom as pissed as a fart. Everyone was buying him whisky. And he was wasted. I started taking the drinks off him, and I will admit, I did drink a few of them on him. But for every drink I took off him, four more appeared in it's place. Now, I can handle my drink. I have been known to drink a litre of vodka/whisky/whatever that bottle was under the sink. I can handle my drink. But after only a couple of drinks I have no real memory of what happened.
According to what I have been told, I danced with the best man. When kicking out time came around, I wasn't allowed to leave, the best man tried to wrangle me upstairs. I was having none of it, pulled my mini dress up around my waist, and scaled a freaking wall to escape the hotel. It was a 15 foot wall. I climbed it in knee high boots to get away.
When I woke up the next morning there was a garden gnome in my bed, a traffic cone in the garden, and a text from my male friend saying he was on his way. Once he arrived, he filled me in on some details. After I had escaped, and I do mean escaped, I had phoned him. I stayed on the phone while I made my way home. Apparently I had phoned him because I was freaking out at being locked in a hotel. The staff at the hotel would not let me leave. I told them I didn't have a room, but they weren't letting me leave. The best man then tried to get me up to his room "to sleep it off". I was having none of it and made my escape. I had scraped both of my knees and wrecked my boots when I had climbed the wall.
In the years that have followed the wedding, I have become the laughing stock of the wedding. I have become known as the drunken slag who lead the best man on before she pulled her dress around her waist and jumped over a massive wall. No, really. That's how I have been remembered. But the truth is far sinister. As far as my male friend is concerned, he thinks I was drugged. I have no real memory of the night. But he does. He remembers the phone call at the beginning of the night, the disgust at the best man, and the state of me only 3 hours later. There is also a good chance that he told the staff of the hotel to stop me from leaving. Why would hotel staff try to prevent someone leaving? I wasn't a guest in the hotel and I wasn't paying for a room, they should have thrown me out on my ass. Instead, I ended up climbing walls to get out of the hotel.
Moral of the story- Trust your gut and if a creepy guy hands you a drink, don't drink it. I'm lucky that I can handle myself. Also, if you have a son, teach him that no means no.
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