You’ve Mistaken Me for Someone Else’s Bride.
Why Are We Doing This?
This story really happened and ended quite sadly for one woman—or rather, two women. It all began rather predictably.
Gordon’s parents had been wanting to see him married for a long time. Well, just think about it—a handsome and strapping young man, working as an assembler at a defense plant, making loads of money, and yet living as a bachelor. He gave only a small portion of his salary to his parents, squandering the rest on various entertainments and dining out, and he didn’t even want to buy a car. He could have easily saved up for one in about six months or even sooner. But why bother? With cash in hand, taxis were more his style. Life was a dream—at least when work was over, he could eat well and party hard, and no one had the right to nag him about it. Except for his parents, who believed it was their job to nag him. So, let them nag, Gordon thought. But his parents had entirely different ideas. They talked things over and decided on a drastic solution.
They made a plan with a woman named Fiona, who lived nearby and had a daughter also seemingly ready for marriage yet still single. Fiona met Gordon by chance after speaking with his parents and lured him into helping her carry a heavy bag home.
Gordon, being the kind soul he was, agreed to help. Fiona thanked him by sitting him down in her kitchen and pouring a glass of whiskey. She was warm and friendly.
“We’re just simple folks, Gordon,” she said, “and we appreciate kindness in others. We’d like to treat you for your generosity.”
Gordon didn’t refuse—after all, it was only polite to accept. He downed a glass, and then she poured another. After all, one for the road.
Just then, her daughter Grace walked into the kitchen. Gordon was caught off-guard and smiled, not sensing the trap. Fiona promptly invited him back the next day, hinting that they’d be celebrating her daughter’s birthday.
Gordon, already warmed by the whiskey, naturally accepted. Why hesitate? It was Saturday, after all—a perfect day for a little party. And party he did, so much that he woke up there the next morning. By Monday, he went straight from their place to work.
When he got back home that night, he faced his parents ruefully:
“Looks like I’m stuck now… Gotta get married…”
His parents breathed a sigh of relief and beamed.
The time until the wedding flew by. Isn’t it always the case? When you’re busy, time flies. There were many preparations: booking a venue, tailoring a suit and a bridal gown, finding gold rings—especially those the bride would like—paying for transport for the couple and guests in advance… Gordon watched as his money vanished, becoming gloomier by the day. It’s not like he really loved Grace. It’s just that, he let slip while tipsy, as a joke of sorts, “I’m a decent guy, I guess I should probably marry…” and Grace and her mother clung to him with a vise-like grip. Now he was paying for a careless word.
Grace, elated, started hinting,
“Prepare for the bridal price, Gordon!”
“What?” He was taken aback. “How about we keep it simple? I’ll come to get you, we’ll sit in the car, and we’ll go to the registry office.”
“No!” the bride insisted. “I want it just like Mum says.”
“Oh, just like Mum says?” Gordon grumbled through clenched teeth, recalling that first day they met. In recent days, he couldn’t stop thinking of that day, suspecting their meeting wasn’t coincidental but a cunning plan devised by the future mother-in-law.
Nevertheless, the wedding day arrived. With a heavy heart, Gordon donned his groom’s suit, hopped into the rented car, and headed to pick up the bride. He could have walked since it was just one block over, but apparently, it wasn’t the done thing. The groom should be seen arriving in style.
As soon as he entered the right building, the bride’s girlfriends besieged him, demanding a fee for every step leading to happiness. He spat inwardly, quickly handing over prepared notes to get them off his back. The ceremony annoyed him, but more so, the thought of having to lie about loving the bride at the registry office troubled him.
Cursing the world again in his mind, he made his way to the second floor, entered the so-called sacred apartment, and found not one, but five brides standing before him, their faces hidden behind white lace.
Another bridesmaid announced importantly:
“Now the groom must guess at first sight which of these brides is his beloved Grace. For every mistake, there’s a hefty penalty!”
“Oh, there’s a penalty too?” Gordon muttered aloud. Everyone laughed, taking it as a joke. For a minute, he stood there in loathing, realizing he had less and less time to back out. They thought he was trying to identify the real bride, but he was wavering on whether he dared to make the right decision. In the end, he made up his mind. Picking the least like Grace in form and figure, he grabbed her hand and exclaimed nervously,
“Here’s my bride!”
And quickly made an exit with her, not letting go. Thinking it was just groom’s antics, she laughed and followed him compliantly.
The crowd cheered and shouted,
“The groom messed up! That’ll be ten grand!”
As they jeered and laughed, Gordon and the girl already fled from the building; he ushered her into the waiting vehicle.
“What are you—” the girl realized she was in the car with him—”You’ve got the wrong bride!”
“I know!” he exclaimed urgently, ordering the driver, “Step on it! Get us out of here fast!”
The car moved smoothly, and the girl hastily pulled the lace away from her face.
“What are you doing?! You’ve made a mistake! Stop the car!”
“No, I didn’t!” He shook his head vehemently, eyes full of desperation. “I haven’t made any mistake!”
Then, something strange happened. Maybe the girl saw something recognizable in his eyes because she suddenly calmed down and asked gently,
“Gordon, are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”
Gordon kept his gaze fixed on hers, nodding passionately.
“So you don’t love Grace at all?” she probed again.
“I hate her,” Gordon whispered with emphasis.
“And where are we going?” she inquired.
“Where?” The driver turned around in confusion. “Aren’t we heading to the registry office?”
“No, mate…” Gordon said sadly. “That’s not where we’re going.”
“I don’t understand!” The car screeched to a halt.
“I guess I need to hide from everyone now…” Gordon looked again into the girl’s understanding eyes, and she smiled.
“Would you like me to help you hide?” she offered.
“Stop, lovebirds!” exclaimed the driver, frustrated. “Why aren’t we going to the registry office? I’ve got your whole route planned!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll pay you extra,” the girl said confidently. “Just take us to this address.” She gave him a street and house number, and Gordon quickly added, “Yes! We’ll pay! Double fare! Just please, if any of my relatives start calling, don’t answer!”
The scandal was massive, of course. Gordon’s parents, along with Fiona, even tried reporting him missing to the police. But all they got was laughter and advice to try TV for a message to the runaway groom.
Gordon avoided home for a couple of weeks, and Linda—the girl who saved him—became enemy number one to her friend Grace.
But a few months later, Gordon and Linda did get married. For love, no less. After the wedding, he settled down, becoming a model husband and even less inclined to drink. He finally bought a car. As for a place to live, they chose an apartment far away from Fiona and her daughter’s neighborhood.
