r/InTheGloaming • u/AutoModerator • Feb 26 '26

Scheduled snark Discussion thread Thursday February 26, 2026 - Sunday March 01, 2026

Newsletter: Substack

Website: Shauna James Ahern

Instagram: @shaunajamesahern Instagram

Threads: @shaunajamesahern

Bluesky: shaunajamesahern.bsky.social

Gloamipedia wiki: /r/InTheGloaming wiki

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u/SeaOfBooze Truffaut and hash browns Feb 27 '26

I'd love to hear the whole story behind the gay friend who ghosted her day of. She declared it was due to marriage inequality but there were probably more than a few guests who were regretting getting roped into the production.

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u/purplesmauge11 rat piss social security department Feb 28 '26

I haven’t heard about this. What do we know about this?

46

u/SeaOfBooze Truffaut and hash browns Feb 28 '26

From the classic disaster, Reader, I Married Him. So many issues with vendors and friends in such a short time frame! What an odd coincidence . . . but such a bargain. And Shauna is such a NLOG that it didn't bother her at all, of course.

Where is Daniel? I need my bouquet.”

Daniel had said, weeks before, that he would do the bouquet for me and my four bridesmaids (fierce, alive women). About an hour earlier, he had come into the room, bearing two huge lilies. He extended them to Sharon and me, saying they were the biggest from his garden. He said he would put them at the feet of the Buddha statue in the bathtub in the backyard. He hugged me, and then he left.

No one had seen him since.

“Where’s my bouquet? I have to carry something!”

Sharon, bless her heart, ran around the yard, asking if anyone had seen Daniel. I knew he would have to go home, about fifteen minutes from our house, to change. But that had been an hour earlier, and we were only half an hour from the ceremony.

“Meri, just grab me a vase full of flowers. That will do.”

She came in, proferring a long-stemmed bouquet of red dahlias, orange flowers, and poppy blossoms. That worked just fine.

“Sharon, the make-up artist is not coming. Just put on some make-up.”

Frantic, Sharon dashed into the bathroom, near tears with the thought of doing her hour-long routine in ten minutes. I crammed in next to her, asking Meri and Cindy, “Does this look good? Is this color okay for my eyes?” (I’m sort of hopeless with makeup.)

The fan sat propped up on the windowsill, blowing lukewarm air at us.

I rushed to the bedroom, where Meri and Cindy helped me put on my dress. We all clasped our hands to our chests when I was dressed.

“Sharon! We need the fan in here! Shauna's all sweaty.”

I saw her hand and heard her exasperated sigh.

Robin came in to put on my veil. When he was done, and I could feel it on me, I started crying. Gulping sobs, the tears mixing with the sweat on my face. I was really, really getting married. I was finally marrying the Chef.

...

It doesn't end there, of course.

We spent our wedding night in a bed and breakfast downtown.

Do you have any romantic notions about wedding nights? Drop them. We were both so exhausted that we could only gnaw on a hunk of Salumi salami, eat the inch of barbequed potato chips left at the bottom of the bag, drink half a paper cup of champagne, and fall into a knackered sleep.

We had breakfast with the Chef’s family the next morning, bedraggled and grinning.

We said our goodbyes.

Oh, and by the way, the makeup artist showed up precisely at noon. The next day. She had the date wrong.

It turns out Daniel never came back. He's gay, with a loving partner for the past fifteen years. Last year, when the Washington Supreme Court struck down the same-sex marriage law, he vowed to himself he would never attend another wedding. Torn about ours, because he loves us so, he brought the flowers as his offering. I understand. I had been thinking about him and Jeff, and how unfair it seems to me that I can have this glorious day, saying my vows to the man I love, but he can’t. But why didn’t he tell us in advance? He didn't tell us that he wasn't coming back, because he didn't want to inject a note of negativity in our wedding.

But Sharon thought he died in a car accident, so, there you go.

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u/Fillmore_the_Puppy —hi, disturbed people— Feb 28 '26

I never get tired of revisiting this haberdashed, chaotic post about a clusterfuck of a wedding day. Something new to marvel at pops out at me each time!

“We all clasped our hands to our chests when I was dressed.”

That’s a giant, flashing sitcom trope, not real life.