I thought being my best friend’s maid of honor would be a joyful experience. I spent weeks planning her bachelorette weekend—booking an Airbnb, organizing activities, coordinating with nine other girls. I wanted everything to be perfect. But instead of gratitude, I got a meltdown. She trashed the Airbnb for not being “aesthetic enough,” accused me of being lazy, and demanded I pay more because I was the MOH. She humiliated me in front of everyone. That moment shattered something inside me.
I canceled the Airbnb and backed out of the trip. I couldn’t stomach the entitlement anymore. She called me selfish and accused me of ruining her “once-in-a-lifetime” celebration. But I wasn’t the one who turned friendship into a transaction. I had given my time, energy, and heart. What I got in return was public shaming and unrealistic demands. I didn’t sign up to be her personal event planner or her ATM.
Her reaction made me question everything. Was I overreacting? Was this just “normal bride stress”? I turned to Reddit, hoping for clarity. The response was overwhelming—thousands of upvotes and comments from people who had seen similar behavior or worse. It was comforting, but also heartbreaking. So many stories of friendships strained or broken by weddings. It made me realize I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t wrong to walk away.
People shared their own experiences—some with chill brides who prioritized love over aesthetics, others with nightmare scenarios that made mine look tame. One dad talked about his daughter’s laid-back wedding, reminding me that not every bride becomes a tyrant. Another commenter asked when MOH duties became financial obligations. It was a wake-up call. Somewhere along the way, weddings became performances, and friends became props.
I used to think loyalty meant enduring anything. But loyalty without respect is just self-sacrifice. I wasn’t being dramatic—I was setting boundaries. If someone can’t appreciate your efforts and instead demands more while insulting you, that’s not friendship. That’s exploitation. I didn’t ruin her trip. I refused to be used. And that’s a decision I’ll never regret.
She hasn’t spoken to me since. Maybe she’s still angry. Maybe she’s embarrassed. I don’t know. But I’ve made peace with it. I’d rather lose a friend than lose myself trying to please someone who sees me as disposable. Weddings should celebrate love—not test it. And if a friendship can’t survive a party, it probably wasn’t built to last.
I’ve learned that saying “no” is powerful. It’s not cruel—it’s necessary. I hope she finds happiness in her marriage, but I won’t be part of a dynamic that demands blind devotion and endless giving. I’m not a charity. I’m a person. And I deserve to be treated like one. That’s the real lesson her wedding taught me.
