She obsessively watched and watched the You Tube video. Even after she stopped listening to the gooey pop songs. Even after she stopped drinking. The several creations of a similar wedding went apace. The dresses were all sumptuous. Tulle for one, satin for another, an incredible smoky-white lace for yet another. She chose thirty-three bridesmaids’ gowns, in rainbow colors. She ordered five sets of engraved invitations and two different wedding cakes.
She made payments for three different halls. One had the right acoustics for a wedding band (she had found six really good ones), one had a good, wide space in which to leave open a dance floor, the third had a garden in which to serve the champagne (twelve different brands ordered). She had festoons of lily orange, tender green, rich purple on order in order to decorate them.
When the bank blocked her account and she went to them to discuss the problem, she found them strangely unsympathetic. Even after she showed them the video. All the tears and all the different lists and plans that she had written down had left them as stone. They refused to finance any more wedding plans.
Apparently they would have been more resilient if she had produced a groom.