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"I don't hate you, Frank, but you're a huge pain in the ass."

I remained quiet as he rambled.

“ You’re so fucking stubburn that, I can’t deal with you. Because I’m just like you. There’s a saying, that what bothers you about yourself bothers you about others?”


Silence grew, but I saw fit to respond. “Lo que te choca te checa?

“ Yes, that thing. You were a pain in middle school man, Any time I was alone with her, You’d just show up. Such a fucking cock-block. I mean, you weren’t blocking anything I guess. In the end, I wasn’t getting anywhere anyway.”


He lit a cigarette.

“So yes. To answer everyone’s question: I am upset that she had her wedding on the same day as my birthday. But I’m more upset that she didn’t have the guts to tell me that her Fucking wedding was going to be on my birthday until the very last moment. I miss her, and it’s strange being at the wedding of someone who you’ve had sex with. But I have a birthday every year, and she only has a wedding ‘once’


And look at us now, she’s getting married, and they’re all happy, but I’m miserable. Could you believe it? that she didn’t even give us a ‘plus one?’ Of course, she told me yesterday that I was free to invite whomever I wanted but, it was yesterday, and this is a destination wedding... It’s not like it was gonna happen. Look, friends of her that she invited: they have partners, we’re not fifteen, I would’ve brought my girlfriend save for the fact that we broke up recently.

Anyway, I don’t blame you for being around her, she was your friend. Sure, you were stubborn but... she was you friend: I need to respect that. I need to respect that you going there wasn’t about me or my strange relationship with her. That this wedding today... it isn’t about how I feel.


But how does she feel? The happiness she feels? I hope it isn’t fleeting. I hope it’s long lasting. I know it won’t be. I know she’s going to figure it out eventually.

maybe one day she’s going to be driving her Q8 to the gym, or maybe she’s picking a new color for his fancy apartment in Polanco, or maybe she’s going to see her husband in the eye, and she’s not going to feel what she feels now. That feeling of sheer love that new couples feel.

When that day comes, she’s going to come to us, she’s gonna let us know that she screw up, she’s going to be one-child deep into this whole affair and she’s going to want to get the fuck out of it.

I mean, what a mess! They’ve known each other for less than a year. I don’t think this marriage would last unless they get children: fast. Oh but don’t confuse that with the rumors that’s she’s pregnant: She’s not.

Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Look into that room, don’t you see so much tension, so much confusion as to what the fuck is going on. Her parents: they’re against this. Not the man, or the family, but the timing. They can’t figure out why they got so serious so fast.


But that’s life for you. And don’t even bring up her cancer; that shit was almost a decade ago and look at her. Full of life.

I remembered when they screened her for the fifth year: she was so nervous about death, and what it meant to be complete. But fuck that noise now. She’s not going to die of cancer. Not today, not tomorrow, not in fifty years.”

He took a deep breath. I then asked. “If you feel all of this why are you here?”

He stared into the sky and started crying. “I do not know.”

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