Old Dog, New Beginnings

I put on my satin lilac maid of honor dress as I cautiously avoided getting mascara on it, along with the rest of my face. This is not how I thought I would be feeling the day of my best friend’s wedding. I pictured this day to be full of excitement, happy tears, and maybe even a subtle nod at my boyfriend to what could be us one day.

What I did not picture was me getting ready alone, tear streams adorning my makeup, and no boyfriend in sight. It was your typical “I didn’t see it coming” situation, although apparently he saw it very clearly for months prior ; probably planning for it as strategically as Carrie had planned for this wedding.

Two years down the drain, but thankfully he was generous enough to leave me with two whole weeks to try and scramble together a new pity date. Unfortunately, the deadline came and went before I could even pick myself up off the couch. So here I am, alone.

We were in the bridal suite getting ready for the grand reveal, the rest of the bridesmaids and myself jittering as we waited for Carrie to come out and show us the final look. There she was, picture perfect from head to toe. Bridal Guide Magazine would kill for a shot of this for their cover. I held back tears, unable to pinpoint the exact trigger, and smiled in awe as she whisked around the room, veil following suit.

Luckily, I was able to disassociate during the ceremony and came to when everyone was getting up for cocktail hour. More like cocktail eternity, when you have to spend the entire time explaining to multiple acquaintances where your no longer partner is.

When the reception dinner thankfully began, I found my seat and noticed that another (assumingely) single person’s name card was placed next to mine in a last minute effort to replace Ryan’s spot.

I sat and mingled with the rest of the bridal party and their dates, unable to ignore the painfully obvious emphasis that I was the only solo person at the table. Right when I thought my fellow singleton had abandoned me as well, an elderly man feebly walked up in a pressed tux, crisp polkadot bowtie, and unidentifiable expression on his face.

This man had to be in his eighties, but I’ve never been good at guessing ages. I made an effort to cover up the disappointment on my face, tucking away the hope that this had any chance to be a meet cute. Who was I kidding? I hopped up to pull out his chair and assist him in the seat. He smiled, thanked me multiple times, and reached out his frail hand to shake mine.

“I’m Aldo, it is a pleasure to meet you young lady. I hope I’m not cramping your style.” My heart winced. “I’m Daisy, nice to meet you. You’re the only one with style at this table.” I responded in a hushed voice, smirk on my face, and honesty in my statement. He laughed and I visibly saw the relief wash over him. Whatever the look was on his face as he walked up, melted away.

We chatted and laughed and exchanged stories throughout the reception dinner, in between bites and reviews of the food. He was a first generation Italian from Florence, whose parents came to the U.S. when he was 10. His delicate hands became strong and animated when he talked — his Italian roots ringing true — regardless of 72 years in America.

“What's a beautiful young woman like you doing alone at a wedding? Couldn’t decide which boyfriend to bring?” I laughed despite the question anchoring me back to reality. “Quite the contrary. My boyfriend couldn’t decide which girlfriend he wanted to break up with. Turns out it was me. Two weeks ago. Silly me for thinking I was the only one.”

I felt my eyes getting hot and I knew Aldo could tell. He grabbed my hand and dropped his head. “Men… we suck! Who was his other girlfriend, Marilyn Monroe?” I found myself laughing again, something that felt so foreign lately. “My wife, Mary, passed away a couple months ago. Married 55 years. Ovarian cancer. I almost didn’t come today. In fact, the last thing I want to do is be here right now, if I’m being honest with you. But, Carrie’s family has been friends of ours for years. I felt I couldn’t miss it.” Now I could tell that his eyes were hot too.

The table cleared one-by-one as the DJ came on and the dancing ensued. Aldo and I sat there for most of the night, finding peace in each other’s presence. Both my grandfathers had passed away years ago, and I didn’t realize the void that had left me with. Talking to Aldo was filling my cup and then some. He felt like an angel on earth; I could only hope that he was enjoying our unlikely encounter half as much as I was.

The DJ announced the final song was coming up next, and Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be” began playing. I panned the dance floor, noticing most guests had made their way to it, partners in tow. I reached out my hand, feeling a pinch of vulnerability. “Would you like to dance?” Aldo’s speckled emerald eyes glistened as he gently took my hand in return. “It would be an honor.”

We swayed slowly with a few twirls sprinkled in before ending our waltz in a long embrace. “Mary and I loved to dance. We hadn’t been able to in a long time, due to the cancer and all. This was so lovely. All of it. Thank you so much for an unexpectedly wonderful evening. I don’t believe I would have been able to make it through tonight without you, dear.” Aldo politely kissed my hand and we both left the wedding with a new friend, wedding date, and a restored faith to carry on.