I was eating lunch at my desk, poking at a sad salad that felt like punishment for the extra slices of pizza I’d indulged in over the weekend, when my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen and nearly dropped my fork. It was a name I hadn’t seen in forever—Tessa.
We had been close in college, inseparable even, but life took us in different directions after graduation. We had kept in touch, but only through the occasional Instagram like or a short birthday message. So, seeing her name pop up now was unexpected.
Curious, I opened the message.
“CLAIRE!!! I’M ENGAGED!!! I need you to be one of my bridesmaids! I can’t imagine my big day without you. Say yes, please!”
I almost choked on a cherry tomato.
Her excitement jumped off the screen, and for a moment, I hesitated. It seemed strange. We hadn’t been that close in years. Why would she want me as a bridesmaid? But then, another thought crept in. Maybe this was her way of reconnecting, of bringing back the friendship we once had. And besides, being asked felt…nice. Like she still valued what we had shared.
I typed back quickly. “I’d be honored!!!” adding way too many exclamation points to match her enthusiasm.
Looking back, I should have trusted that little voice in my head telling me something felt off.
A week later, a fancy rose-gold embossed folder arrived in the mail. Inside was an itinerary so detailed it could have been a travel brochure.
Tessa had planned an entire wedding weekend, filled with extravagant events—a welcome dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant, a private wine tasting, a full spa day, and, of course, the wedding itself, set at a luxurious vineyard.
Later that night, she texted me. “Did you get my wedding packet?”
“Just going through it now. Looks amazing!” I replied, still flipping through the pages, feeling slightly overwhelmed.
“I know it’s a lot, but it’s going to be so worth it! Wait until you see the bridesmaids’ dresses I picked out. They’re Vera Wang.”
I felt my stomach tighten. Vera Wang?
“Vera Wang?” I typed back hesitantly.
“Don’t worry, they’re only $750. Plus alterations. Oh, and we’re all getting custom shoes dyed to match exactly!”
I swallowed hard.
“Sounds perfect,” I sent, though my bank account was already screaming in protest.
Over the next few months, the costs kept adding up. The dress, the shoes, the hair trials, the travel, the gifts—it never stopped. By the time the wedding weekend arrived, I had spent over $1,300. It was money I really couldn’t afford to spend, but I kept telling myself, This is what friends do. This is for Tessa.
The morning of the wedding was straight out of a bridal magazine. We gathered in Tessa’s suite, wrapped in matching silk robes embroidered with our names. A professional glam squad worked magic on us, curling, contouring, and perfecting every detail.
Tessa’s maid of honor, Jen, handed me a crystal flute filled with champagne and orange juice. “Mimosa?”
“God, yes,” I said, taking a long sip.
When Tessa finally emerged from the bathroom, she was breathtaking. Her gown sparkled, her makeup was flawless, and her hair was styled in an intricate masterpiece of curls.
“You look incredible,” I said, genuinely impressed.
She turned to check herself in the mirror. “Do I? I was worried the highlight was too much.”
“It’s perfect. Today is going to be amazing,” I assured her.
For a while, it really was.
We laughed, reminisced about college, and took endless photos in our robes. The stress of the past few months faded, and I let myself relax.
After all, I had made it this far. What could go wrong?
The limo ride to the vineyard was a blur of excitement, bubbly drinks, and last-minute touch-ups. When we arrived, the venue was even more stunning in person—rolling hills, endless vineyards, and flowers that looked like they had been arranged by a fairy godmother.
“Quick, Jen,” Tessa said, stepping carefully from the limo. “Let’s get inside before anyone sees me.”
She and the maid of honor hurried off, leaving the rest of us behind. Typical Tessa, always dramatic, always making sure her entrance was a grand one.
I stepped out, smoothing the expensive dress I would never wear again, and started toward the entrance. That’s when a woman with a clipboard stepped in front of me.
“Names, please?” she asked, checking off the other bridesmaids one by one.
When I moved to follow them inside, she stopped me.
“Claire, you’re listed as a non-covered guest. We need your $5,000 event contribution.”
I laughed. “Good one. I’m a bridesmaid.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Yes, and all non-covered wedding party members are responsible for their share of the per-person venue and vendor minimum. Your name is on the balance list. We accept credit cards and Venmo.”
My smile faded. “There must be a mistake. I need to speak to the bride.”
A few minutes later, Tessa appeared, her face flawless but impatient. “Claire, what’s the problem? We’re about to start the pre-ceremony photos.”
“The problem is that I just got asked to pay $5,000 to be at your wedding.”
She blinked, like I had said something incomprehensible. “It’s standard. You agreed to this.”
“Standard? Since when do bridesmaids pay for the venue?”
“OMG, Claire! Listen, the contract required a certain headcount, so Jason and I decided the wedding party would contribute their portion. I thought you understood.”
“How could I understand something you never told me?” My voice was rising. “You never mentioned this. Not once.”
Tessa’s expression hardened. “When you agree to be in someone’s wedding, you’re agreeing to make their dream come true. This is my dream wedding.”
It hit me then—this had never been about friendship. She had asked me to be a bridesmaid because she needed money.
I stepped away. “I need to think.”
She sighed dramatically. “Fine. We’ll take photos without you.”
I turned, fuming, and then an idea struck me.
Pulling out my phone, I took a flawless selfie—hair, makeup, and vineyard in the background—and typed:
“Just got hit with a $5,000 charge at the door to be a bridesmaid in a wedding I already spent $1,300 on… #WeddingShocker #CashOrCredit”
I tagged Tessa, the venue, and every vendor.
I hit post without hesitation.
It took ten minutes before Tessa came storming back. “What did you do?”
“Told the truth.”
“Take it down!”
“No. And it’s too late anyway.”
And it was.
Within minutes, groomsmen and bridesmaids started leaving. Guests turned around. The caterer hesitated about payment. The wedding unraveled before Tessa’s eyes.
That night, she called me in tears. “You humiliated me! How could you?”
I deleted the message without listening to the rest.
Because friendship isn’t manipulation. And no dream wedding should come at someone else’s expense.
