We had been living together for three years, had two dogs, and a condo to die for. What else was there to do but marry? Seal the deal?
Apparently he didn’t feel the same way because I stood at the altar in New York, wearing my black expensivetuxedo and my tight Italian shoes, listening while my soon-to-be ex-almost-husband told the priest and all our friends that he just couldn’t do it and he didn’t love me anymore. In shock and beyond heart-broken, I watched him walk away, dreams shattered and tears streaming down my face. Two weeks later, he was shacked up with someone ‘new,’ the hussy. Apparently he had been secretly fucking some little twink from his job and didn’t fucking have the guts to break up with me before the ceremony. Thoughtless, heartless bastard!
Of course, you realize I had to pay for everything. He’s gone and all that’s left of him is the bill. He even took the dogs. I thought he was the one. How could I have been so wrong?
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