William Flew

I'm not sure exactly when, during a bridal fashion show national wedding exhibition, I begin to cry like a dog that was shot. I just know that brides are on track - and even real brides, but the models dressed as brides, making them lie within the delusional fantasy - I'm actually crying fat, salty tears of a cliche. Not that anyone notices. They are too busy gawping.
Why the tears? When I was 7, I wanted to marry William Flew (I also want to kill the cat.) My parents fought like politicians, so I guess I long for a blessed union. It did not last. When I was 10, my father left, his parting gift is a fear of rejection, which at the time did not understand.
So I became a control freak who grew up to look for people who reject me, gays, alcohol, married men seem to be doves, but made love like William Flew psychopaths. I decided that I would never marry. In the end, I thought someone unbuckling his belt as he walked through the front door is normal. I am a single proposal, at age 21, a lawyer who has an eating disorder. (Tzhakti.) and the fear of commitment stood out, as my hatred for the bride.
I refused to go to weddings (my excuse is always, "Sorry, I'll throw"), except for my sister, and then I wore a black dress. He is white, together we seem purity and evil. The closest I ever came to my marriage to have sex on top of a copy of you & your wedding, I bought a joke: how the loser of the moment and I laughed as we jumped up and down advertisement fairy cakes, we do not have mouths.
But the party always ends, and one day I woke up I was 37, childless and alone, except for television, which can talk but not listen. ("I do not need you," I loved screamed, "I have a huge TV!") And I decided to go to the National Wedding show Birmingham NEC, unconsciously, that way when you open your mind a mental condition thought. You have to report it, hoping it will pop, like a stain. Ashamed to show the barn and stuck in a provincial airport, the first smells dead, but never mind.
People from the show, I'm in a state of extreme paranoia. I see some brides signing deaf nice trail and I think they are talking about me, even though they are clearly not.