I’d never been to an ex’s wedding. If you can believe it, I’d never been invited before. To be clear, I barely have (what most people would call) “exes,” so take that with a grain of salt. But this weekend, I gladly attended my old high school boyfriend’s celebration of matrimony, and I wanted to take some time to tell you about it.
There’s only one person I’ve ever really called a “boyfriend.” It was during my sophomore year of high school, and it was my first relationship. Ever. Over the years, he and I had shared classes, friend groups, and mutual crushes on each other. We were both timid when it came to relationships, so we went to two dances together before calling anything official.
Like any high school relationship, I can’t remember much about it, save for the awkward parts. I know he asked me to Homecoming during debate class with a note. I remember one of our dates being at Fazoli’s. And I also recall the moment he asked me to be his girlfriend. It was during a play we saw with his mom at an outdoor theater. You might be asking, “Paige, do you mean during the intermission?” and I’d say, “Great guess, but no. It was during the actual play.” Silly, awkward stuff like that.
At the time, it was charming; now looking back, endearing. If it weren’t for our complete lack of knowing how to commune with each other, it might have even been romantic. I still look back fondly, nonetheless.
I can’t really tell you what happened from there. We dated most of our sophomore year (dating, albeit, a loose term) and enjoyed what we could of the company. We hung out a few times alone, and we talked frequently until we didn’t. Somewhere along the way, we grew more and more apart, and I got dumped in a friends’ basement, with a classic and notorious “high five” to seal the deal.
Though I was devastated as any Taylor-Swift-loving 15 year old might have been, our shared friends stayed friends, and throughout high school and college we found a way back into each others’ lives. Over game days and catch ups, reunions and run-ins, the tears ran out and those tense moments passed. We found our own way(s) in life, and though we don’t run in the same circles regularly, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an invite to his wedding, affirming the friendship we maintained, once again.
I’m not sure there’s any “right” way to attend an ex’s wedding. That is to say, if you even go at all. There are some weddings I wouldn’t attend with a bullet to my head. There are others I wouldn’t mind, but wouldn’t go out of my way for, either. I think it all comes down to a matter of the heart, really. Your heart, not his/hers/theirs. It’s about asking questions, like: How will I show up? How will I be present? And does this event have the opportunity to help or hurt us moving forward?
Each relationship is different, so I imagine every post-relationship will be, too. But if your answers to those above questions are along the lines of “Well! Very! And it’d help!” I say go for it. As long you’re celebrating with them, you’re stellar. But that’s just my two cents.
The wedding itself was a pleasure. Throughout the ceremony, my friends and I whispered comments on how well the bride and groom fit, and we gave knowing laughs and glances during the best man’s bantering speech. Aside from a few sisterly comments (“He never spun you around like that”), and friendly jests with old friends, the wedding itself was nothing short of fun and lovely. An honor to be part of.
I can’t say I’m any expert in the field of exes. I won’t even say staying friends with past partners is always good for you (though I recommend giving yourself 10 years). But there’s something quite special and romantic about the human experience, isn’t there? How people change as vastly as the years do.
How funny that some momentous parts of our lives get dug up, some root themselves deeply, and some grow faster and farther than you ever expected? How crazy it is that we can’t predict the ending to these stories, though we’re convinced we know their conclusions by the ages 15, or 20, or 50? It’s funny, these reminders of you how far you’ve come. How things will always be okay, in hind sight. Perhaps we weren’t meant to know our endings; just a practice of presence and patience along the way.
At several points throughout the wedding, my sister leaned in to ask, “Is this weird for you?” My honest answer was “no.” Because what a beautiful thing.
To see growth in the friends you’re committed to. To witness ways in which time, though you doubted it, was on yours and his side. How lovely to become who we’ve wanted to be, and how lucky to celebrate that for one another.
Gratitude, I suspect, is just love packaged differently. It’s a wonderful gift to see and receive.
For the record, I’m not here to tell you to go to your ex’s wedding. If your side of the story is different, rest assured I’ll be reading your Substack next. I’m only here to report that on this front, friendship works. As does time. As does hope. And the healing in between.
And I’ll cheers to that any day.