“Honestly? I don’t think that would do much. It’s already been screenshotted everywhere.” She paused. “I got worried when you weren’t answering your phone. I thought—I don’t know.”
I reassured her that I wasn’t about to do anything stupid and thanked her for being probably the only friend I had left.
“It’s not—I mean, it’s not that bad.”
“Thanks, Bec.”
“No, I mean, you didn’t actually say anything that bad about Megan. Or Madison. Or Sharon—well, I mean, you did about her mom, but not about her. And Caryn’s were mostly fine until the last few; it was more about her friends and they already hated you.”
I thought about what I had said about Caryn after the hair and eyelashes debacle. And about Sharon’s mother. And Amy. Oh God. I hadn’t held back about Amy. Did I say she had been flirting with someone else at her bachelorette party? I couldn’t remember now.
I took a deep breath and exhaled through my mouth, trying to fight off the impending panic attack.
Becca excused herself when I said I needed to go through my voicemails, and I climbed back into bed to listen.
The first one was from Megan. “I don’t even know what to say right now. You just—you put my business out there in a blog? What were you thinking? Don’t call me back yet, I don’t think I’m ready to talk to you.”
Could have been worse, all things considered.
Caryn’s was next and her voice quivered with anger. “How could you do this to me the week before my wedding? Everyone is mad at me because you published what I said about them! What kind of person does that?”
Amy didn’t leave a message. She clearly listened to my outgoing greeting and then hung up instead of saying anything.
Sharon’s message was hard to hear through her tears, but what I could make out was: “Tell me that wasn’t you. My mom is mortified. I’m mortified. I told her it couldn’t actually be you and that you’re going to sue Buzzfeed. Just—tell me you didn’t do that. You didn’t say that.”
Megan’s second message began slightly more measuredly. “I appreciate that you didn’t sleep with Alex,” she began. “But is that really what you think of me? I come across like such a raging bitch and you don’t even begin to address that you might have done anything wrong in this situation? You aren’t exactly a saint here. Plus Tim’s sister says she’s not going to be in the wedding anymore if you are, which maybe I should thank you for, but it’s still a mess I have to clean up. And seriously? Why haven’t you called me back?”
I took the phone away from my ear and switched to the text messages.
Becca had texted asking where I was, but I skipped over that thread. There was one message from Alex. My heart in my throat, I clicked it.
After all of this, you slept with Justin? You got a couple things wrong though: I’m not perfect, and I definitely don’t know who you are.
A sob rose up in my throat. I deserved everything I got from my friends and then some, but this? Alex was the last person I wanted to hurt and now—well, now he was gone.
But oh God, he wasn’t. I still had to see all of these people again. Assuming any of them still wanted me at their weddings, let alone in them.
I went back to my computer. There had to be an option to delete the blog. There it was, under settings. I clicked “Delete Blog” and got a prompt asking me to type in my password to confirm the deletion. I hesitated a moment—the text in the box said this was permanent and the material could not be recovered if I deleted it.
I had enjoyed the blog more than any other hobby I had ever picked up. True, I was the worst version of myself on there, but I was also writing. Really writing. For the first time since college. And it had felt like—like I had found myself for the first time. Even if I was being horrible, just the act of putting those words into the world had been a rebirth of sorts. Could I really just throw that all away?
Yes, it needed to be done. And it needed to be done before I could apologize to anyone. Before I even listened to the rest of the messages. I typed my password and kissed my first attempt at personal writing in more than a decade goodbye.
I picked my phone back up, then put it down without unlocking it. Instead I opened my email on my laptop, letting the now 1,963 emails download. Most were comments on the blog. I skimmed through a couple dozen, which were split pretty evenly between encouraging responses, similar horror stories, or compliments on my humor or writing, and negative responses. The negative half were more in the vein of what I deserved, wondering why anyone liked me enough to want me in their weddings in the first place. I concurred wholeheartedly.