For most people, their wedding is one of the most special days in their lives. However, for some people, it can be pretty… casual. This man is getting a lot of opinions for what he decided to wear.
Keep reading to know what went down…A wedding is usually a serious affair. Most brides and grooms give out strict instructions on what to wear and what the dress code will be. However, at this wedding, the groom himself wore something which no one expected.A TikTok creator uploaded a video of her friend Catherine’s wedding. She wrote how her friend swore just a few months ago that she was not going to fall in love. But then she wrote, how her friend was definitely in love that summer.“I wonder how long this marriage lasted. She looks great, he looks like he couldn’t care,” another person gave their two cents.
“He’s just letting her know she has a life of him not giving a f— about her ahead of her,” another commenter vehemently agreed.
“She looks absolutely beautiful, I love her dress. Not sure what their circumstances are but I wish them both the best,” one commenter shared their thoughts.
“Dunno. Maybe she wanted a dress like this, [he] wanted the outfit he had on their first dates, both are happy the other is dressed as they like,” another commenter speculated. “Over or underdressed for some standards, well dressed for their own standard.”
A third commenter added in unison, writing, “If they are happy, then who cares? If the groom just couldn’t be a–ed then that’s very sad.”
Whatever it may be, we hope the married couple is happy in their life together! People can make all sorts of decisions; some that we might not agree with. But as long as they are happy, that’s all that matters!
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I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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