My Best Friend Gave Me the Wrong Dress Code for Her Wedding – I Decided to Outplay Her Smartly
When Emily’s friend, Elle, gets engaged to her boyfriend, Brian, she is completely over the moon. Emily does everything she can to help Elle plan her dream wedding. But then Elle starts acting secretive and gives Emily a wedding invite with the incorrect dress code. Thankfully, a mutual colleague gives Emily the correct details, allowing her to show up to the wedding to teach Elle a lesson.
“I’m engaged, Em!” Elle said, rushing through my door while I was sitting on the couch and reading a book.
A woman reading on a couch | Source: Unsplash
“What?” I exclaimed, standing up to hug her tightly. “I’m so happy for you, my girl!”
Elle sat down on the couch and showed me her hand.
“Look at this rock!” she said.
A close-up of an engagement ring | Source: Unsplash
Of course, I was over the moon for her. We’d been through so much together, and now it was her turn to walk down the aisle.
For my wedding, a few years ago, Elle had been right by my side. She helped me plan every little detail, from the font on my wedding invitations to the menu selections.
“It’s more like you and Elle are getting married,” my husband, Grant, laughed one evening when I told him everything that Elle and I had planned.
A laughing man | Source: Unsplash
“Well, she’s been around longer than you,” I replied, showing him the mockup for our wedding invitations.
And it was true, Elle and I had been friends since our childhood, having lived on the same street and gone to the same kindergarten together.
We shared every major milestone, from awkward teenage years to college graduation, together.
Two women lying on a bed | Source: Pexels
We even ended up working at the same company, making sure to have lunch and tea breaks together every day.
So, naturally, I expected her to be just as involved in her wedding planning as she was in mine.
“Brian and I don’t want to be engaged for too long,” she said one day at the office while we were having tea and pastries.
An office kitchen | Source: Unsplash
“So, we’re planning for the wedding to be in a few months.”
“That’s a lot to do in a few months, Elle,” I said, sipping my tea.
“I know,” she agreed. “But you’ll help me!”
A woman drinking from a mug | Source: Pexels
As the weeks went by, Elle asked me for advice on the venue, the dance, and the flowers.
“I need it to be perfect, Em,” she said. “Brian and I are the only children of our parents, so this is the only chance they’re going to get to be parents of the bride and groom.”
A smiling older couple | Source: Midjourney
I helped her wherever I could. I booked visits of stunning venues that she could see. I booked her appointment with the florist who had done all the flowers at my wedding. And I arranged for her to meet my choreographer for her first dance with Brian.
“I don’t know how I could have done any of this without you,” Elle said, holding my hand.
Two women holding hands | Source: Midjourney
But that’s not the best part of this story.
Despite our shared history and all the assistance I had given Elle throughout her wedding planning process, she didn’t tell me anything about the actual wedding.
“I want to keep the location a secret,” she said sheepishly, a small smile on her face. “I want it to be a surprise. So, you’ll know when the invites come out.”
A close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
And yet, when the invitations came out, I never received mine.
“Darling,” I asked Grant when I got home one day. “Did Elle’s wedding invitation come in the post?”
“No,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Shouldn’t she have just given it to you?”
A man using a tablet | Source: Midjourney
“I thought so, but I’m not sure where our invitation is.”
“Ask her, love,” my husband said.
I was puzzled, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
A close-up of a surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
So, I asked her directly.
“Oh, right,” she said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I must have forgotten. I don’t have any on me at the moment, but I’ll bring one for you tomorrow!”
The next day, Elle handed me an invite. To my surprise, the dress code was “Mermaid.”
A wedding invitation on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Like the cartoon character?” I said aloud.
It seemed bizarre, but Elle had always loved that cartoon, so I tried to rationalize it.
“Maybe she’s going for a whimsical theme?” I muttered, thinking about a mermaid-themed wedding.
An imagined mermaid-themed wedding | Source: Midjourney
But still, I planned my outfit for Elle’s wedding.
It was about a week before the wedding when our colleague, Jane, and I were standing outside during one of our tea breaks and chatting.
“I’m actually looking forward to getting all dressed up,” Jane said. “It’s been a while since I put on a good pair of heels and did my makeup for fun and not work.”
A woman putting on makeup | Source: Unsplash
“What do you mean? Is your costume all sorted?” I asked.
“What costume?” Jane asked, her reaction priceless; she looked at me like I had lost my mind.
“Elle’s invitation said that the dress code was mermaid-themed,” I said.
A surprised young woman | Source: Midjourney
“I think she’s joking with you,” Jane laughed. “My invitation said ‘Cocktail’ as the dress code.”
My heart sank.
Elle was setting me up, but why?
For the next few days, I kept my head down, barely interacting with Elle.
A close-up of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney
I was feeling sidelined and hurt. We’d always been honest with each other, so why was she doing this now?
I remembered how supportive she was during my wedding and couldn’t understand why she didn’t want me involved in hers.
On the day of the wedding, I arrived in a long, elegant gray dress.
A woman wearing a long gray dress | Source: Midjourney
Grant and I sat at the back, away from the crowd, and we watched the beautiful ceremony unfold. I wondered why I wasn’t a bridesmaid.
But it was only during the reception, when Elle saw me, that the truth came out.
A bridal couple kissing | Source: Unsplash
“What the hell are you wearing?” she demanded when she saw me.
The guests around us glanced at us and each other, sensing the tension.
“You know, I really thought that ‘mermaids’ as the wedding theme was a bit extreme. But then Jane showed me her invitation.”
An angry bride | Source: Midjourney
Elle’s face went through a range of emotions, finally settling on a strained calm.
“Em… I guess it was a mistake,” she said.
“Stop pretending,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “I’m your friend. It’s your wedding. What’s going on?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting around before finally meeting mine.
A close-up of a bride | Source: Midjourney
“Em,” she said slowly. “I was afraid that you’d outshine me. Everyone keeps talking about how perfect your wedding was and how beautiful you looked. I didn’t want to feel like I was in your shadow on my own day.”
I looked at her carefully, trying to process her words.
“My own mother kept talking about how wonderful your wedding was and that I should listen to you about everything,” she continued.
A close-up of a bride and her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Elle, you never had to compete with me. Your wedding is beautiful, and so are you. We’re friends, remember? I would never try to overshadow you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Em,” she choked. “I let my insecurities get the best of me.”
I pulled her into a hug.
Two women hugging | Source: Midjourney
“Everything is perfect,” I said. “You’ve planned your dream wedding, and it has all fallen into place. Now, come on. Let’s enjoy this day together, like we’ve always done.”
The tension melted away, and the awkwardness dissolved as we shared a genuine moment of reconciliation.
Grant and I sat at a table away from the crowd.
A table at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
“Are things okay with you and Elle?” Grant asked me.
“I think so,” I smiled. “But I think that there’s bigger things we need to discuss, too. I just want to make sure that we’re on the right page. That can wait until after her honeymoon.”
My husband took my hand and squeezed it gently.
A couple holding hands on a table | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
My Neighbors Pointed a Camera at My Garden, So I Taught Them a Brutal Lesson Without Taking It to Court
When my new neighbors installed a camera aimed at my backyard, I knew I had to take action. What started as a simple plan to teach them a lesson about privacy spiraled into a wild performance that caught the attention of the local police — with consequences I never could have predicted.
I never thought I’d become an amateur actor just to teach my nosy neighbors a lesson, but life has a way of surprising you.
It all started when Carla and Frank moved in next door. They seemed nice enough at first, if a bit… off.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” I said, offering them a basket of tomatoes from my garden. “I’m Zoe.”
Carla’s eyes darted around nervously. “Thank you. We’re very… security-conscious. You understand, right?”
I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. Little did I know what that would mean for me.
A week later, I returned from visiting my mom to find something shocking in my backyard. As I lounged in my swimsuit, tending to my beloved tomatoes, I noticed a small black object under the eaves of their house.
“Is that a camera?” I muttered, squinting at it. My blood ran cold as I realized it was pointed directly at my yard.
I marched over to their house, still in my swimsuit, and pounded on the door. Frank answered, looking annoyed.
“Why is there a camera pointed at my yard?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “It’s for security. We need to make sure no one climbs the fence.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I sputtered. “You’re invading my privacy!”
Carla appeared behind him. “We have a right to protect our property,” she said coldly.
I left, fuming. I could have taken them to court, but who has the time or money for that? No, I needed a different approach.
That’s when I called my friends.
“Samantha, I need your help,” I said. “How do you feel about a little… performance art?”
She laughed. “I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
I outlined my plan, and soon we had a whole crew on board. Miguel, our resident special effects guru, and Harriet, who never met a costume she didn’t like.
As we planned, I wondered if I was going too far. “Guys, are we sure about this?” I asked during our final meeting.
Samantha put her hand on my shoulder. “Zoe, they’ve been spying on you for weeks. They need to learn a lesson.”
Miguel nodded. “Plus, it’ll be fun! When was the last time we did something this crazy?”
Harriet grinned. “I’ve already started on the costumes. You can’t back out now!”
Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I felt my doubts melting away. “Alright, let’s do this.”
The next Saturday, we gathered in my backyard, decked out in the most ridiculous outfits imaginable. I wore a neon green wig and a tutu over a scuba suit.
“Ready for the garden party of the century?” I grinned.
Samantha adjusted her alien mask. “Let’s give those creeps a show they’ll never forget.”
We started with normal party activities — if you can call anything normal when you’re dressed like escapees from a circus. We danced, played games, and made sure to stay in view of the camera.
“Hey, Zoe!” Miguel called out, his pirate hat askew. “How’s your mom doing?”
I smiled, remembering my recent visit. “She’s good. Still trying to set me up with her friend’s son.”
Harriet laughed, her Red Riding Hood cape swishing. “Classic mom move. Did you tell her about the camera situation?”
I shook my head. “Nah, didn’t want to worry her. She’d probably march over here herself and give them a piece of her mind.”
“Honestly,” Samantha chimed in, “that might have been entertaining to watch.”
We all laughed, imagining my feisty mom confronting Carla and Frank. But then it was time for the main event.
“Oh no!” I shrieked, pointing at Samantha. “She’s been stabbed!”
Miguel swiftly brandished a rubber knife covered in ketchup. “Arrr, she had it coming!”
Samantha collapsed dramatically, ketchup “blood” pooling around her. We all started arguing and running around in panic.
“Should we call the police?” Harriet yelled, cape flapping as she hopped around.
“No, we have to hide the body!” I shouted back.
Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. The neighbor’s curtain twitched. Had someone seen us? The eerie silence that followed was broken only by our ragged breathing.
We froze, eyes darting from one to another. The weight of our imaginary crime felt all too real in that moment. A dog barked in the distance, making us all jump.
Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity as we waited, unsure of what would happen next.
Miguel’s hand trembled as he lowered the ketchup-stained knife. Samantha, still sprawled on the ground, barely dared to breathe. The air grew thick with tension, pressing down on us like a physical force.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. My mind raced, conjuring up ridiculous scenarios of how we’d explain this scene to anyone who might have witnessed it. Would they believe it was just a game? Or would our silly prank spiral into something far more serious?
A car door slammed somewhere down the street. We all flinched in unison, our nerves stretched to the breaking point. The sound of footsteps seemed to echo in the stillness, growing louder with each passing moment. Had someone called the authorities?
Just then, we heard sirens in the distance. “Showtime,” I whispered. “Everyone inside, quick!”
We dragged Samantha in, cleaned up the ketchup, and changed into normal clothes in record time. By the time the police knocked on my door, we were sitting around the dining table, looking perfectly innocent.
“Is everything alright here?” the officer asked, looking confused.
I put on my best concerned-citizen face. “Of course, officer. Is something wrong?”
She explained that they received a report of a violent crime at this address. I feigned shock, then allowed “realization” to dawn on my face.
“Oh! We were just doing some improv acting in the backyard,” I said. “It must have looked pretty realistic, huh?”
The officer frowned. “How did anyone see into your backyard? Those fences are pretty high.”
I sighed dramatically. “Well, officer, that’s the real problem here. My neighbors have a camera pointed at my yard. They’ve been recording me without my consent.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? I think we need to have a chat with your neighbors.”
We watched from my window as the police went next door. Carla and Frank looked panicked as they were questioned.
An hour later, the officer returned. “Ma’am, I’m afraid your neighbors have been engaging in some illegal surveillance. We’ve confiscated their equipment and they’ll be facing charges. Would you be willing to make a statement?”
I tried to look surprised. “That’s terrible! I had no idea it was so extensive. But, of course, I’ll make a statement, and testify in court if it comes to that.”
After the police left, my friends and I celebrated our victory.
“I can’t believe it worked!” Samantha laughed.
Miguel raised his glass. “To Zoe, master of revenge!”
I grinned, but something was nagging at me. “Do you think we went too far?”
Harriet shook her head. “They invaded your privacy. They got what they deserved.”
The next day, I was back in my garden, enjoying the sunshine without worrying about prying eyes. As I tended to my tomatoes, I saw Carla and Frank leaving their house, suitcases in hand.
Part of me felt guilty, but then I remembered all those recordings they had of me. No, they’d made their choice. I just helped them face the consequences.
As I picked a ripe tomato, I smiled to myself. Sometimes, the best way to deal with nosy neighbors isn’t through the courts — it’s through a little creative problem-solving.
And hey, if nothing else, at least I now know I have a future in community theater if gardening doesn’t work out.
A week later, I was having coffee with Samantha when she asked, “So, any news about Carla and Frank?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I saw them leave, and I haven’t heard from the cops yet. Maybe they decided not to press charges after all. Can’t say I miss them, though.”
Samantha smirked. “I bet they’d think twice before setting up cameras now.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, then paused. “You know, part of me wonders if we should feel bad. We did kinda turn their lives upside down.”
Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Zoe, they were the ones breaking the law. All we did was expose them.”
I nodded, but the guilt lingered. “I know, I know. It’s just… I keep thinking about how scared they looked when the police showed up.”
“Hey,” Samantha said, leaning forward, “remember how violated you felt when you saw that camera? How angry you were? They did that to you for weeks.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’m just not used to being the ‘bad guy’.”
She laughed. “Trust me, you’re not the bad guy here. You’re the hero who stood up for herself.”
Later that day, as I watered my tomatoes, I saw a moving truck pull up to Carla and Frank’s house. A young couple got out, looking excited.
I watched as they unloaded boxes, chatting and laughing. Part of me wanted to go over and introduce myself, maybe warn them about the previous owners. But another part of me just wanted to move on.
As I turned back to my garden, I made a decision. I’d give these new neighbors a chance — no preconceptions, no suspicions. But I’d also keep my eyes open. After all, you never know when you might need to throw another garden party.
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