It was perfect. A satin ball gown with a cinched waist that made me feel like myself, only brighter. I had just found my wedding dress, surrounded by all of the people closest to me: my mum, my future mother-in-law, my fiancée, her sister, and my two best friends – and as we made our way to a celebratory brunch, I couldn’t pop the question fast enough.
“Will you be my co-maids of honour?” I asked Georgia* (not her real name) and Sarah*. “You are both the closest I have to sisters.” I presented them each with a ring that had ‘with love’ engraved on it. There were tears, excitement, and so much love—I couldn’t imagine a better start to wedding planning. I pictured the moments ahead of us, like Georgia helping me do my hair on the day and us laughing, arm-in-arm, on my hen do.
Georgia and I met almost fifteen years ago in secondary school, where we became fast friends. We were good kids, but I have such fond memories of us skipping lessons to go get ice cream and chatting for hours over boys, life, and teenage angst. In our adult years, we enjoyed music festivals and birthdays together, and despite a geographical distance between us, we would always travel to see each other if one of us was in need. It wasn’t always easy between us, but our friendship had survived awkward teenage years, arguments and living in separate cities. I thought those bumps were the tests of a lifelong bond – but maybe I mistook endurance for closeness.
On the morning of my wedding, Georgia wasn’t there. Nor was she there when I said my vows, or cut the cake, or had my first dance. She wasn’t even in the same city. The silence in her place was a sharp contrast to the laughter and tears we’d shared just months before.
A little while after dress shopping, Georgia called me to say she may not be able to come to the wedding because she had to move house that exact same day. I was devastated but truly believed that if she could have, she would make it all work. My other friends said it was a little suspicious that her move happened to fall on my wedding date and my mum even kindly offered to help Georgia pack and pay for her flights, to reduce the expensive costs that come with a destination wedding in France and moving. She declined. And though I understand not wanting to accept money from someone, it was at this point I probably should have realised Georgia was trying hard to get out of being my maid of honour. But it still took a few more weeks before alarm bells started ringing.
I maintained that Georgia could do plenty of other things to support me on my big day, simply by being there for me throughout the planning process. Plus, we still had a hen weekend to celebrate together. I was so busy that I didn’t notice our calls had started to dwindle and that she’d barely asked me a thing about my wedding. Maybe I should have been a little more prepared for what happened next – but I wasn’t. “I might have to get my wisdom teeth taken out the same weekend as your hen do,” Georgia told me off-handedly, during what turned out to be our last phone call.
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It was after that call that it all hit me. Hard. I felt distraught by Georgia’s lack of interest and support for the first time. I texted her a few days later and despite how I felt, I made an effort to keep it light, not wanting to cause any drama: ‘Hey Georgia, will you let me know if you can make it to the hen weekend? I’m finalising our plans this week.’ It forced me to think about how our friendship would recover. And then… she left me on read. After calling and following up multiple times, I realised I wouldn’t hear from her again. I had been officially ghosted by my maid of honour.
It has now been four months since my wedding and we still haven’t spoken.
When you think of wedding drama, you might think of scandalous affairs, bridezillas, mothers-in-law, or caterers gone haywire. One might also think of friendship breakups. Weddings are a major, life-altering event, not just for the couple. As with any pivotal moment, they expose the cracks in connections we might not have known were there – or ones that previously we’d been able to overlook. It seems to be a pretty common occurrence too: while new research is lacking, a 2014 survey found that one-third of brides were no longer friends with at least one of their bridesmaids post-wedding and 73% admitted to arguing with a close friend in the run-up to their nuptials.
We often cling to friendships past their sell-by date, especially with someone we’ve known since childhood. It feels like some sort of unspoken code bonds you to this person because of all the history you’ve shared together. Georgia and I saw each other become the people we are today, but maybe they aren’t so similar. I thought the years we shared meant something special, but as I stood at the altar with the love of my life and my other maid of honour, looking out at all of my family (new and old) and friends, I realised that these were the people who were meant to usher me into this new phase of my life. Not the person who held me in the past.
When I got ghosted, I thought I would be more upset at seeing so many years of friendship flushed down the toilet – and like with any unexplained ending, it’s the not knowing why that crawls under your skin. I racked my brain to try and figure out what I could have possibly done but kept coming up empty-handed. I genuinely couldn’t figure out why this happened. I don’t know if it was pride, or jealousy, or something I could have done to inadvertently be insensitive towards Georgia. It made me question whether or not I had been a good friend. It killed me not to reach out to her again, but I asked myself why I wanted to – and how I’d feel if my messages went unanswered yet again. Did I really think we could fix what was so obviously broken, or did I just want some sort of closure? I can’t help but think significant events bring to light a misalignment in expectations, widens the gap that can come with being in a different life stages to a friend, miscommunication, or whatever else. Maybe that’s closure enough.
If I ever run into Georgia again, I don’t know if I would be sad or angry. In a perfect world, we would get back together as friends, like nothing ever happened, but I will never be able to undo the past. Questioning a relationship is a definite sign that it’s coming to a close and not something I want to force.
I’ve realised that friendships, like romantic relationships, need more than history to thrive. They need care and mutual effort. Georgia and I had history, but we stopped growing in the same direction a long time ago, and sadly my wedding was the catalyst that brought that to light.
Some friendships aren’t meant to follow you into every chapter of your life. Georgia was one of those friends, and that’s okay. I’ll always cherish our memories, but now I’ve learned to embrace the people who do choose to show up—not just for the big days, but for all the days in between.
* Denotes name has been changed
