'When my friend asked me to be her bridesmaid, I had no idea she had sinister motives.'

As told to Ann DeGrey.

When Jenny* asked me to be her bridesmaid, I was surprised. We'd been close once, but had drifted apart, so her invitation really took me by surprise.

We met at university, and we had a great friendship. We could talk about just about anything without running out of things to say, and for a long time we were almost like sisters. We even shared clothes! But there was always one dark spot in our friendship — Aaron.

Watch: For more wedding drama, here is an absolutely terrible Best Man speech. Post continues below.

Aaron* was Jenny's ex-boyfriend, who she had dated long before meeting the man she was set to marry. She'd been crazy about Aaron, so when he broke up with her, she was devastated.

After the breakup, he disappeared from her life, but he and I always stayed in touch as friends. Then, I bumped into him on a night out in the city. We had a good chat, and he invited me back to his place for drinks. One thing led to another, and we had sex that night. I never intended to tell Jenny; it was just a one night stand, after all, and their relationship had ended ages ago. Besides, Jenny had already moved on with another man. 

I didn't think it mattered enough to tell her, but Aaron did, and Jenny was furious. She called me a backstabber and a liar, and for awhile, it seemed like our friendship was over. But eventually, after tears and apologies, she forgave me. Or at least, she said she did.

Things were never quite the same between us after that. We stayed friends, but not in the way we had been before. By the time she got engaged, we had drifted apart. So, when she asked me to be a bridesmaid, I was caught off guard.

'Maybe she wants to mend things,' I thought. 

The first red flag was my bridesmaid's dress. At the fitting, she put all the other bridesmaids in gorgeous matching gowns. Mine was the same colour, but it was a completely different style. Stiff and unflattering; it looked dreadful on me. I looked less like a bridesmaid and more like the mother of the bride.

At first, I thought there was a mix-up, but Jenny assured me that this was the dress she wanted for me, so I couldn't really complain. 

I swallowed my discomfort. Maybe I was overthinking it?

Next was the seating arrangement.

As a bridesmaid, I was expecting to be seated with the rest of the bridal party. Instead, I had been placed at the singles table, which was tucked away next to the kitchen. Surrounded by women I barely knew — there were no single men at the table — I quietly watched the waiters rush by with trays of food.

I was still trying to wrap my head around my seating placement when Jenny appeared beside me and told me she needed a favour. Two of the catering staff had called in sick. 

"Could you help in the kitchen for a little bit?" she asked. 

"Oh, really? Why me?" I said.

"Just for a while," she replied, evasive. "I'd appreciate it."

Before I could argue, I was standing in a hot kitchen, drying dishes in my awful bridesmaid dress while the real guests enjoyed their meals. Occasionally, I'd catch a waiter's glance — it was clear they were wondering what I was doing in the kitchen, and their guess was as good as mine.

The night dragged on like that — the little humiliations adding up. I wasn't included in the official wedding photos. Jenny waved it off with a casual, "Just family and close friends". When I asked if I could grab a drink from the bar, she laughed and told me the open bar didn't include bridesmaids.

By the time the reception was winding down, I couldn't take it anymore. I found Jenny near the dance floor and pulled her aside.

"What the hell was that? I thought we were friends."

"Friends? Like in 2018 when you slept with my boyfriend?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I thought Jenny had forgiven me and moved on, but she had been holding a grudge against me all this time.

That's when it really hit me — she hadn't invited me as a bridesmaid, but as a target. She'd "included" me in her wedding as some weird kind of revenge, to get even for something I had believed was long behind us.

Jenny smirked at me, turned around and walked away. I kept my mouth shut; it wasn't worth causing a scene. She got the revenge she clearly wanted, but I decided that was the end of our story. 

I never spoke to Jenny again — I'd rather walk away than keep a friend who saw me as someone to punish.

Feature: Getty.