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I think the horror is proportionate to the degree of embellishment that a wedding entails. In its flamboyance, it is even more manufactured than daily life is for those following the script — which your observations of every colored details combined with writing skills have conveyed impeccably in this text. In this context, it isn’t lost on me that what *you* do for a living seems to have merged awkwardly with that moment happening on your *personal* time: a presence backstage, with a whole different perspective on the performance than the audience.

I would also still be reeling from a similar occurence (including the brief relief from male relevance mirrored by your dancing), if my state of stupor hadn’t been interrupted by something else almost immediately after. However, I knew it was only shelved for later: indeed, the long era of physical distance between me and the woman it involved is about to draw to a close. Therefore, this here has struck close to home.

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Thank you for taking the time to read and share your thoughts! I was, admittedly, still quite frazzled and sleepy while writing this so I have concerns about it reading a bit more disjointed than my usual.

I hope for good things when reunited soon with your friend!

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How women convince themselves that this is happy and normal is beyond me. Brilliantly written as always

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If I were the type to drink alcohol, I'd still be on a binge the likes of which few have ever seen because of this whole experience. :-)

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