What Car Would You Drive To Your Ex's Wedding

This image was lost some time after publication.
This image was lost some time after publication.

The lawyers called her a "high-conflict ex," but to you she's your psycho ex. But either way, you've put it all behind you, both restraining orders have elapsed, and you're going to his/her wedding. What car do you drive?


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You know what really, really hurts about this question?

I recently found out that my ex-girlfriend is getting married. I started dating this girl in high school, during those awkward teenage years. She was a beautiful, beautiful girl who, like me, was a little on the socially awkward side. I sucked at flirting, she sucked at flirting. I wasn't very good at being smooth, and neither was she. I was honest (sometimes too honest), and so was she.

And you know what? That made it all the better.

Our social awkwardness wasn't a handicap for us, it was a wonderful opportunity to learn and grow closer together. We worked though our awkwardness and our burgeoning life experiences together, and we had a lot of fun just living life and trusting each other.

College application time came around, and we were as happy as ever. We wound up going to different colleges across the country, but that didn't bother us. I sent her hand-written letters every week, and she sent me CDs of song compilations that she felt described her feelings that week, and we laughed as I tried to figure it all out and make her smile. It was a weird, but very fun and very interesting way to communicate.

Until, one day, right around Christmas of my freshman year in college, I simply stopped hearing from her. No letters. No phone calls. No CDs. Nothing. It was as if she had simply fallen off the face of the earth. I couldn't even get a hold of anyone else that knew her and might be able to give me a lead. I tried for a few weeks, but got nothing.

I'm not going to lie, I cried a little. I admit it. I was worried that something terrible had happened to her, and when that's the only thing on your mind, you really don't give a damn about social norms or whatever it is that other people think of you. You just do what feels right, what makes you feel better.

I never heard anything, and for the next several years, I went through life not knowing what had happened to her, and it was a terrible thought. I eventually managed to move on, but even so, once in a while, I still thought about her and what could have happened.

On top of all that, because neither of us had any real dating skills and didn't care at the time, I wound up screwed for the next several years because my dating/social skills had literally ceased developing at the awkward high school stage. Thus, my dating attempts pretty much ended in miserable failure for a number of years due to a combination of my lack of social/dating skills and the constantly comparing new dates to a girl that was no longer a part of my life.

Fast forward to a few months ago, and I find out, through Facebook no less, that she is happily engaged and will be getting married this summer.

F. M. L. W. T. F.

Really, those childishly stupid iGen acronyms were the only things that came to mind when I saw that. I literally could not so much as string a sentence together. Everything just came back to me in one fell, vicious swoop.

Nothing had happened to her. She had just lost interest in me, found another guy, and couldn't so much as tell me. I wouldn't have cared how she had gotten the message across: text, phone call, voice mail, email, snail mail, Morse code, by way of mutual friends, face-to-face. It really wouldn't have mattered at the end of the day. As long as I would have known.

But no.

I didn't cry this time, though. I couldn't. It was one of those cosmically crappy moments where you really just don't know how to respond, and wind up sitting there like barely-cognizant sea slug (a description that also mirrors how I felt in retrospect).

So I go into a complete and total funk for two straight weeks, before coming to my senses and trying to force myself to let go and move on. For the second time. It's taken me a while, but I had managed to push it out of my mind through focusing on a combination of work, family, and a little bit of travel.

And now this.

And now, once more, this whole shitty situation is foremost in my mind. Thanks, Mike.

So, now that I've gone through that whole sob story, on to the question at hand: What would I drive to her wedding?

Assuming I get invited (which I doubt), well, I really haven't a fucking clue. I know of no car to arrive in that would in some way even the score on the scale of shittiness. No, not even my old Saturn would have been enough.

In fact, knowing how I would feel with the knowledge that I was actually going to go, I'm not sure I would be able to drive.

At most, the best I would be able to do would be to catch a train up there, hijack some kid's bike when I get off the train, ride naked to the wedding ceremony, take a shit on the altar, and then walk away in as calm and collected a manner as I could manage.

Is it the rational thing to do? No.

But it would feel about right.