Why Girls Are Weird Read Online Free PDF Page A

even an entire house into chaos. But those three words were coming out of Becca’s mouth, so they only produced a small, worried mental hum that flatlined underneath my restless jitters. See, Becca wasn’t the closest friend of mine, but she was a woman in my social circle. Now she was a woman who’d moved up another rung on the ladder of life, while I was still down below. Someone was getting married. Someone else. Another person that wasn’t me. As I sat still listening to her recite the engagement story, the hum in my head turned into a murmur. Then it sizzled into a loud, vibrating buzz. I hated that feeling of dread weighing down my arms, that heaviness making my stomach feel so empty. I hated it because I never expected to feel it. I didn’t think I was that kind of girl. I looked down to see that my palms were sweating; there were also tiny half-moons indented from my fingernails. I opened my mouth wide when I realized I’d been clenching my jaw. What was happening to me?
    â€œSo anyway, we’re finally doing it. Married. Hitched! Can you believe it?” Her voice cracked on the last word, and I could tell this phone call was way up in the double digits on her list. By now she was reciting a well-rehearsed monologue. She might not notice I wasn’t picking up my cues.
    Becca and Mark had been together for about four years and had been talking about marriage for the past year, waiting until they had enough money saved up. I didn’t even have someone I was debating marrying to discuss savings and budgets with. Someone else had done all of that searching and finding, and that girl—she wasn’t me.
    â€œCongratulations.” I hoped I sounded sincere. “When’s the wedding?”
    â€œIn nine months.”
    â€œOh!”
    â€œNo. No baby,” she said quickly, laughing. No, nothing was sordid or imperfect about this impending wedding. Hers was just fine. Everything was great. Becca had been declared “A Keeper.” She was getting married. I was not. I was “A Releaser.” Or maybe even “A RunLikeHellFromHer.”
    â€œWe wanted a wedding in the spring, and I’d like some time to get myself in shape,” she continued.
    Becca was what my mother would call “well put together.” Always wearing an “outfit” and not just clothes, she’s the only person I know who wears a blazer to a bar.
    â€œHow’d you like to be a bridesmaid?” she asked me.
    I didn’t expect this offer, as I hadn’t been one of Becca’s closest friends. Ian was the closer one to this circle of people. They were Ian’s friends first. I had fully expected to lose them after we split up. I appreciated that they all stayed my friends after the breakup. They really liked Dale and were pretty considerate about not forcing Ian and me to get back together.
    â€œWow, Becca. Thank you. I can’t believe you’re asking me.”
    â€œDonna’s not going to be able to make the wedding because she’s got a family reunion that weekend.”
    Oh.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œShit. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m just glad that I can ask you. I was worried we wouldn’t have enough room to have everyone in our wedding party that we wanted and now we can. Besides, you and Ian were really there for us that one time we almost broke up and it would just mean so much to us if—”
    â€œBecca. It’s okay. I’ll be in your wedding.” I politely cut her off before she had to fabricate a loving history between us. I was flattered enough that she was thinking of me. “I’d be honored,” I added, in case she was still feeling guilty.
    Now, I’m not the kind of girl who defines her personal status and self-worth by the length and quality of her relationships. Or at least, that’s what I thought about myself before I picked up that phone to hear Becca’s good news.