He's Getting Married

He's getting married.

Huh?

Marriage itself is not unusual-- I've heard talk. I know it happens. But he's getting married, and he is not marrying me. That can't be right. We dated for 10 years, and while we haven't been together for a number of years now-- a sneaky, dangerous part of my heart never believed that we wouldn't be together again... one day... someday...

Well, I guess we've shot that idea straight to hell.

I found out by email-- simultaneously awful not to be told in person and protected because he couldn't see me stomping around my tiny Hollywood apartment yelling"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!!" (Hey-- don't judge-- I didn't say it was logical). It's a long, glowing email because we've remained friends and friends share. Haven't responded yet-- there are no words-- at least not honest ones.

You know the real tragedy of it all? I'm going to have to date. In Los Angeles. I am not a supermodel or starlet. I am not under 25. Given these factors-- is it actually legal for me to date here? Surely there's a union fine when short, plain women from the east coast try to navigate these dating waters.

So, I guess this is it. I'm going to do this. My name is Kate, and I'm dating in LA.

Crap.