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Catherine Gacad

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The Knot

Every once in a while, I stalk ex-flames by entering their names into WeddingChannel.com to see if they’ve settled down. I get a kick out of seeing their wedding websites–the location, the logistics, the love.

Brian Yagudin. With a name like that, the ex could never escape my savvy online search techniques. Brian Yagudin and Lucia Tenorio–soon-to-be happily ever after. I knew they were getting married. My husband and I ran into them, ironically, hours after they got engaged. Passing each other at a popular downtown wine bar, my ex-boyfriend beamed, “I asked her to marry me tonight during dinner.” My eyes made a mad dash for her ringless left hand. Same cheap ass Brian. Always so practical. Probably promised her a Roth IRA rather than waste money on a sparkler. She’d been married before so might as well do things completely different this time around. Sans diamond ring. How’s that for cutting-edge different?

Two Filipino girls with white guys. The similarities stopped there. She was likable–the perky personality, the friendliness, the chattiness, the warmth I never had around Brian. I liked her so much the first time I met her that I texted him afterwards, what a perfect companion he had found. Her assets were offset by deficiencies–the lackluster career potential, the numerous misspellings on their blissful website. In those areas I dominated.

He might have told her I was cold and calculating which, for the most part, was true. I purposely instigated a blowup argument just in time for me to attend Burning Man–single and liberated.

I’m certain the groom-to-be had no hand in any of the wedding details. I scrolled through pages of stainless steel pots and pans on their registry. That was never the life I envisioned for us when we were together. I hadn’t appreciated his cooking. He had a disdain for my constant need to try new restaurants. We were destined for failure and happiness with others.

On their About Us page, I read snippets of his background that I had never known. Either I hadn’t bothered to ask or he hadn’t cared to share.

Months after we broke up, I wandered into his line of sight at a raging Halloween party. He pulled me aside. “I hope you know you’re hot. Maybe I didn’t make that clear when we were together. I’m sorry if you didn’t get that from me.” I hated him during our time together because I didn’t feel wanted. I didn’t feel adored which is why I sought affection from others. As I matured I realized that needy feeling had to be satiated by me alone. I couldn’t feel that someone loved me unless I loved myself first.

That’s not to say I didn’t love Brian because I did.  So much so that when I found his WeddingChannel profile, I cried tears of joy.

You found a better me; I found a better you.  For us and for them, that’s amore.

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09.22.10

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Welcome to my site, derived from an advice column I wrote while getting my MBA. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. I give helpful, opinionated advice based on my own experience and from the expertise of my extensive network. For more, click here.

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