Yet Another Asshole Bride

Dear Dategirl,

My fiance and I are in the midst of wedding planning and have come across something of a problem: We both adore my sister’s ex-husband. Their divorce was ugly—he cheated—but she was not blameless. We would like to invite him, but when I tried to discuss it with my sister, she hung up on me. Then our mother called and screamed at me too. My honey and he are still golf buddies, so it even seems a little rude to exclude him from our special day. How can I get my sister to come around? I love her, but she’s not always rational.

—Bummed-Out Bride

You are approximately the 210,455th person—OK, woman—I’ve heard from over the life of this column who has let a one-day party turn her into a complete fuckface.

In case my profanity wasn’t clear enough: No, you do NOT invite your sister’s philandering ex-husband to your wedding, unless you want your sister to stay home and your parents to spend the entire ceremony wondering where they went wrong with you. If it makes you feel any better, I’m betting this jackass doesn’t even want to come, because, news flash, most weddings—including yours, cupcake—are boring. They’re dull, last too long, and require expensive gifts given while wearing uncomfortable clothing.

Your wedding is one day of your life. You can choose to make it a fun occasion, or you can use it to make your sister miserable. Your call, but bitchface is particularly unflattering when paired with a long white gown.

Dear Dategirl,

I’d been seeing someone for a few weeks when he vanished—no returned phone calls, and only after I said I was worried did he e-mail back, saying it wasn’t going to work. It had been several lonely years, so this devastated me. I’m deeply embarrassed by the way I behaved in the aftermath. I made a point to “run into him” at his favorite bar, where I tried to berate him into kissing me. I even put his hand on my cock. (I was drunk.) I am pretty certain I left him a few messages, but I can’t check because I lost my phone that night. I want to apologize, but I also want to curl up and die of embarrassment. Coincidentally, I got a great job in L.A., so it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. What is the protocol: Do I call, text, or e-mail him an apology? This all happened last month, btw.

—Regret-Filled Romeo

Step away from the phone, lock up the computer. If you get in touch with this guy while you’re still living in the same city, he’s just going to think he’s in for more of the same. Instead, wait until you get settled into your new apartment, then buy one of those postcards with palm trees or the Hollywood sign on front. Write him a quick, humble note apologizing for your idiotic behavior and stick it in the mailbox. Do not ask him to forgive you, and do not wait for a reply, because one won’t be forthcoming. Then rip out those pages from your diary and toss them in the trash. Forgive yourself for being a lunatic, because, as the song goes, “Everybody plays the fool . . . sometime.” Just don’t do it again. E

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