During the reception, the groom followed me into the bathroom and closed the door and stood in front of it so I couldn’t leave, smiling, thinking he was charming. Then he offered me some cocaine. I replied, as sarcastically as possible, “Do I want to snort cocaine in the bathroom with my sister’s husband of thirty minutes? As classy as that offer sounds, I’m going to have to decline.” Then when I went for the door, he tried to kiss me. I kneed him in the balls and told him, “When my sister asks you for a divorce, I will remember this moment when you try to screw her out of assets.” (Which he did, plus child support, and I did remember. It was also only one of several times he tried to come on to me over the next six years)
I said OK. And I said while we’re at it does my rent include my own bathroom, or do you get to use your bathroom and mine too? Because all of your friends come over, look through my things, and use up all my toilet paper. He was in near tears at this point and retorted, “but I loved that you put up a new shower curtain and I just wanted to make a nice home here I was proud of, and as for the toilet paper, I use it to clean my ears out.” How would you feel when the person you are marrying, has dipped his wee in some other married woman’s wee-wee and came to you as if nothing had happened. All with his dirty wee, at that time, thank God, it was not me in place of Diana.