Four Days Before My Wedding

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To give you some context, I'm now 36 years old, but this incident occurred when I was 24 and my ex-fiancé was 23;her name is June. We got together in college, dated for two years, got engaged, and had a wedding date set by the third year. As neither of our parents were wealthy and she was enrolled in graduate school, the cost burden fell to me. I spent $40,000 on the wedding, which was paid in full four days before the ceremony.

We experienced our standard mid-20s relationship problems prior to that nightmare, from instances of poor communication, excessive weekend drinking, to sporadic argument over pointless nonsense. Aside from that, we had a fantastic relationship and spent a great deal of time next to each other struggling to figure out post-college life and making plans for the future. As I previously stated, the wedding and reception venue took my deposit four days prior to the wedding. Over two hundred and forty guests had been confirmed, outfits for both bridegrooms and bridesmaids had been fitted and paid for, and everything was coming together. Before I continue rambling, let's get to the eventual shitstorm of events that you're all keen on.

It was a friday night in our brand-new apartment, which we had just moved into a few weeks earlier, and we had made the decision to invite friends over for the pre-game before hitting local bars. My buddy from kindergarten, Nate, was among those in this group of friends. June and I had spent a lot of time with Nate over the previous two years, and he was definitely her favorite among friends, which is always great when your girl gets along with people in your social circle. We started the night at a hookah lounge, so by the time we left, everyone was drunk. The following five hours were spent hopping from four to five different bars, which contributed in the entire group morphing into an inebriated, bellicose mess. I, June, Nate, and another couple returned to our apartment for a nightcap after the bars closed, while the majority of people went home.

The couple only stayed at our place for thirty minutes before calling it quits and heading home, so I was left with June and Nate. I noticed June checking her phone more than usual earlier in the night at the hookah bar, and Nate checking his phone after she had locked the screen. I almost made the connection, but why would I be concerned about them hatching a nefarious plan two days before I was supposed to wed this girl? I was fairly sober when I got home and noticed that all the alcohol had been consumed. I was thinking about buying a few six-packs from a nearby store that is open until three in the morning. Although June and Nate were unquestionably drunk and had crashed, there was no reason to believe anything shady would happen if I went without food or water for 20 minutes. I had a sinking feeling that something wasn't right as soon as I got in my car and started to leave my apartment building, and it terrified me to no end. My closest friend agreed to be picked up, go with me on the beer run, and walk with me back to the apartment when I called him.

We strolled up to the sliding glass door leading to my living room, which had a sectional to the right of it, after grabbing some Bud Lite and getting home. My ex-fiancé was fully nude and perched on Nate's, fucking mouths deep down each other's throats as soon as we opened the door and took two steps inside the flat. Amazingly, neither of them seemed to be aware that my friend and I were standing ten feet away and witnessing their clumsy, inebriated antics.

After about about seven–ten seconds, I lost control, dropped the alcohol, shoved the woman off Nate as she was completely nude, and delivered two powerful right hooks to Nate's face while he was still lying on his back and wearing the most horrified expression. He is 5'5" 150 lbs and a jogger, but I am 6' 237 lbs and have played football my entire life. Nate began to snore immediately after I punched him with my fist, and he slept for at least five minutes as I was going crazy over the incident.

I contacted her parents out of the blue till they woke up and yelled for them to come get their cheating daughter right away. They came in quickly after I finished lecturing Barb about her reprehensible, abhorrent choice because their house was just five minutes away. I was yelling at June when her parents hurriedly entered the room, and Nate was slouching on the couch and my friend was mediating. The wedding was fucking off, I told everyone right away. I demanded the ring back and declared that I'd rather forfeit $40k than waste the remainder of my life with a lying scumbag.

The following twenty minutes were spent by her parents trying to persuade me out of it and frequently justifying June's behavior, asking, "Why can't you let this go?" "Mistakes like this tonight, happens in real marriages?" or "Its too late to call off the wedding?" When Nate awoke, his left eye was closed completely and the right side of his face had ballooned to the size of a grapefruit. Because it was difficult to get him out of the apartment, he couldn't drive, I called his brother, who was thirty minutes away, and used that time to laying into June, Nate, and her parents.

The fact that I was able to communicate my thoughts while in such a severe wrath surprised me. When I've been this upset in the past, my head has occasionally seemed jumbled, and I've had trouble distilling and organizing my thinking into rational arguments. By the time June's parents drove her home and Nate's brother picked him up, I had methodically dissected any argument, viewpoint, or cries for reconsideration made by anyone in the room. It felt just fantastic.

I'm not going to say that the months that followed were simple or that everything went my way. I had charged up thousands of dollars in credit card debt to pay for the wedding four months later, my employer, an engineering firm, chose to lay off my entire division, I had endured five months of unemployment, and later given a depression diagnosis. For a few years, life was chaotic, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. However, things have stabilized now that I'm 36, and I couldn't be cheerful. I appreciate you letting me vent to you.

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