I’ve been Stood Up on My Wedding Day

I’ve been stood up on my wedding day! Have you thought of anything more tragic than that? Here come the bride, all dressed in
white! – but where is the groom? My Jonathan?

Father’s eyes were apprehensive, “Madeline, this is preposterous! Didn’t I warn you? Is this what you call maturity and
independence at eighteen? I guess we better hurry him!”

But this is not how the playwright picture love. Romeo died for Juliet, Pyramus for Thisbe, Han Suyen called it “a many
splendored thing!” And Princess Margaret gave up the crown for love!

Jonathan, wait ‘till I get you! I am determined to pursue an unceasing justification of my plight! I remember how I fought Father
and Mother when they refused our young engagement. But how we talked to them about independence and youth’s self-reliance
– of the new breed, ready, willing and able not only to vote at eighteen but also get married at eighteen.

I imagine what my gang mates would say, “Poor Madeline, she was always a bride…!” “Jonathan must have found out that she’s
a square!” And all Mother can say is, “This is most embarrassing!”

Indeed, it is! I should have joined the crusaders for blessed singleness. I should have noted what my father confessor, Fr. Martin,
said when I talked about Jonathan and marriage. “Madeline, you’re not ready for it. I guess you have to listen to your parents this
time!” But I didn’t! I was a like a spoiled and stubborn child immensely carried away by the now-generations’ indefatigable cry
for self-assertion! I was like Jane Fonda speaking for the women’s lib movement.

The phone keeps on ringing. All right, Mother, all right, I’m answering it. Hello! Hello! Hello!!!

Don’t you darling me, Mr. Jonathan Anderson! May I be privileged to know where you were at nine o’clock sharp this morning?
What? Do you know what you did? Well, if you don’t, then, you’ll never know!

I’ve been stood up on my wedding day because my groom forgot and fell asleep. Marriage at eighteen… how do you like that?