Diane and I met and became friends in our junior year of college. She was a psychology major: caring, sensitive, compassionate. Better, she was funny and liked to smoke pot. The perfect companion.
Diane had been dating her boyfriend, Brian, for a year. They were inseparable, in love, and, it seemed, emminently compatible.
From the time I met Diane, she made it clear, to Brian and to all who knew them, that she wanted to marry him after graduation.
Nearing the end of their senior year, Brian, easy-going and mild of manner, produced a ring. A year later, I attended their wedding with my own fiance.
A year after that, I told Diane she’d be receiving an invitation to my own wedding.
After congratulating me, she confided that she was sleeping with someone. Someone other than Brian.
I didn’t approve. But I said nothing.
Diane arrived at my wedding not with Brian, but with her lover.
To be clear: The invitation had been addressed to Diane and Brian Cravitz.
I was appalled, but said nothing.
My new husband and I honeymooned in Jamaica.
My most vivid honeymoon memory is of sitting poolside, obsessing on whether I should send Diane a thank-you note. And, if I did, what I would say.
I’ll tell you what I did, but first, what would you have done?The Red Shoes | I Wouldn’t Kick Obama Out of Bed →