I'm getting married...
To erm... I have no idea!
And here's how that happened:
So, yesterday evening I decided to take back the bridesmaid shoes that weren't worn at the weekend's wedding and get my money back. They were for the other bridesmaid, so when I took them back I said 'These were for the bridesmaid but she got her own instead.'
I then nodded and smiled as the shop assistant said stuff and then I heard her say, 'When's your wedding?' and realised, in horror, that I'd totally given her the wrong idea by vaguely nodding and smiling to her earlier questions that I hadn't really heard.
I stood there for a second, assessing the fork in the road I was at. I could either go, 'Oh no, it's not my wedding, it's for a wedding that happened two days ago. I'm not getting married. I'm not even CLOSE to getting married and I'm deaf, which is why for the last few minutes I have unwittingly implied to you by vaguely answering your questions that I am getting married,' and have her feel embarrassed and me feel even more so, or I could simply say 'It's in April' and wonder in amazement at what the hell just happened.
And the latter is exactly what I did.
'After all,' I reasoned as I tried to field her other questions and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible, 'I was never going to see her again.'
So what's a little fake wedding between strangers.
Leaving the shop, bright red and mortified, I turned to Twitter.
'Just returned some bridemaid shoes. Misheard the woman and she thought I was getting married... Whoops!' I wrote.
'Once I realised it seemed easier to answer her questions than tell her I was deaf so I'm getting married in April! And you're all invited,' I continued.
Before finally adding, 'It's going to be great! There'll be port by the wine glass and the wedding list is at Orla Kiely! And I'm making the cake!'
I then wondered, out loud on Twitter with the help of my fab followers, about my fictional April wedding. The service would be in St Brides, the reception in Skylon on the South Bank and all guests could have a free ride on the London Eye.
There'd be peanut butter canapés and gin cocktails with a special exemption menu for @grouchotendency, and we'd all party the night away before I went on my honeymoon to Venice.
The hen party, we decided, would be held in Umbria. We'd go on a cooking course, visit markets, come back with baskets laden with amazing fresh produce and eat fabulous meals on the terrace while sipping chilled champagne.
But my Twitter followers didn't stop there.
You see @katiefforde offered to be maid of honour, @donnysandra wants to conduct the service with help from Trusty Camerawoman, @carolinesmith34 says she'll come if there is cheese, and @paulbelmontesli offered to sort the music and dancing. @grouchotendency wants to throw flash-bang grenades and @HannahHudson1 is going to make a Maltesers wedding cake. And it didn't stop there, @xraixrai is going to do the flowers and @jowo23x suggested a 50s-style wedding dress.
And what about the groom?
Well, obviously there isn't one. But does that really matter?
Can I have an 'I'm not getting married party' instead with canapés and cake, and a gift list at Orla Kiely?
After all, promising to love, honour and cherish yourself is no bad thing.
So there you go peeps, a mishearing mishap means I'm getting married in April, and it will be fabulous! You're all invited.
And seeing as there will be no groom, make sure you bring your fabulous single guy mates, yah?