Not My Mother-In-Law
Most of us do not end up walking down the aisle with our very first loves, and in retrospect I’m glad of that fact. Not only did I score a rather fabulous husband, but I avoided having my first boyfriend’s mother chained around my neck for the rest of my life.
This woman hated me. She hated me so much she refused to address me in the first person. Her contempt dripped off her like her tacky, tacky perfume – and the antipathy was entirely mutual.
The problem was less me and more the fact that no teenaged hussy was good enough for her boy, but I sincerely did a double-take when I saw these yesterday:
I’m pretty sure these invitations are not real, but I just have this creepy feeling that had my life worked out slightly differently, they could have been.
