Mother of the Bride

In this earlier post I mention that I developed an allergy to alcohol “diagnosed out of town at a friend’s wedding where the mother of the bride hated me,” but didn’t go into more detail as it would have distracted from the main point of that previous post. Now it’s time to tell that story.

In Toronto, in the 1980s, I was in a relationship with a man I’ll call Isaac. A few months after we met he was contacted by one of his friends from his home-town out west. Let’s call her Magenta. She had just moved to the outskirts of Toronto and was living with a relative while preparing to take the City by storm. While living in Alberta one of the people that her mother had forbidden her to see (due to his being ‘a bad influence‘ on her) was Isaac. Mom was, shall we say, naive. Magenta was a wonderfully bad influence all by herself.

Her aunt actually lived farther out of the City than Magenta realized; it would take riding multiple transit systems and a few hours to travel in. She was not interested in developing a suburban existence. With her Mother 2,000 miles away it just made sense for the three of us to rent a large two-bedroom flat. All was well until her Mom decided to visit the following year. Fortunately Isaac was out of town (out of the province actually) enrolled in an intensive training program during the visit. Knowing how her Mother would react to the news of her ‘sweet innocent‘ daughter living with a pervert (to say nothing of the identity of that pervert’s boyfriend) we decided to be vague and say we were ‘just friends‘ knowing that Mom would make her own assumption as to what we were hiding. Mom’s visit was otherwise uneventful.

Fast forward a few years; living the exciting life of a deeply psychic, tarot-reading, spirit-attracting double Pisces bisexual misanthrope had taken its toll on Magenta. She returned to her hometown and started dating a former classmate (not her “high school sweetheart” so much as someone she vaguely remembered as being not unfriendly towards her). Her trip from ‘fascinatingly weird‘ to ‘incredibly boring and tasteful‘ included marriage to aforesaid classmate. As perhaps her last act of social rebellion, Magenta invited Isaac and I to attend. We accepted the invitation and arrived a few days before the big event to spend some time with his family and friends. The night before the wedding we were visiting one of his friends; I had two ‘screwdrivers‘. Not wanting to be drunk or hung over in front of the Mother of the Bride, I made sure they weren’t very potent.

I awoke the next morning with a very upset stomach. Isaac’s Dad is a Doctor; I was able to get an appointment that day. After examining and questioning me he announced that I was developing an ulcer. If we caught it early enough (and I followed instructions) I might in time be able to expand my diet but for now alcohol was to be avoided, along with any spicy food or drink.

So off to the Wedding. Nice service; nothing to report.

Then it was time for the Reception. Oh and Magenta’s family is ethnically German; there was wonderful food and great lager available. My diet- bland foods and Sprite® or water (so no sausage, alcohol or even cola). Although Magenta did her best to spend time with us, as the Bride she had to circulate. And then there was her Mother. I don’t know if she was more upset that the man her daughter ‘had shacked up with‘ had the nerve to attend, or that I brought along Isaac as my ‘plus one‘. No- I did not ask her.

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