Tuesday, July 20, 2010

[Fodder for a Potential Fictional Story?]

It was the twelfth wedding invitation that drove me to doing it.

I'm sure Ashley meant well when, on my personalized invitation, she assured me that I shouldn't feel pressured to bring a date, that she'd just be happy to see me at her wedding.  (After all, it's not her fault I've been single all my twenty-seven years.  Oh, I've gone a date here and there, but none of them led to a second date.  For some reason, I seem to attract the gents with whom I have nothing whatsoever in common.)  It was just that it was the twelfth (TWELFTH!) wedding invitation I'd received in six months.  I couldn't help it. I snapped.  I was done. I was gone.

I hastily scribbled an apologetic note on my R.S.V.P., with the vague explanation that I planned to be out of the country that weekend.  And it's true--I did.  Of course, I hadn't planned to do any world traveling a half an hour before opening the envelope, but I certainly planned on it now.  As I sealed the envelope, I flipped on my laptop and began the search for a cheap flat in Edinbourgh, Scotland, and posted an ad for a subletter on Gregslist.  I knew I needed more than a vacation.

A month later, with everything we owned sold or stored in my old bedroom at my parents' house, my dog and I were headed through international customs at Heathrow International Airport.  In her crate, waiting to be let out, Lilly still snored.  I, on the other hand, shook with excitement.  A short train ride to go, then our new life would begin!

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