Champagne Problems | Taylor Swift Short Story

Champagne Problems

I knew the answer to my question before I asked it, yet I still wanted to believe that somewhere there was hope for a different answer, a different life. I sat on the bus on the way to the gala in a somewhat positive mood, trying desperately to lift my sunken spirits. At that point the regret from telling everybody in my family about what I was about to do was quickly diving deeper into my chest. I had spent weeks trying to come up with the speech of all speeches, the golden scroll to make her change her already made-up mind. I was fairly proud of what I had come up with, but I still knew no amount of metaphors or hyperboles would get me anywhere. I had my laptop out in my seat, on that doomed bus ride, as I booked the night train right after the gala. I knew I would need to get out of that town as fast as possible once the answer was thrusted upon me. I knew I would need to sit in the hurt that she had caused me all night long. I had the Dom Perigon bottle wrapped in a bow in my hands. Oh how I wanted to watch that glass bottle shatter all over every joy she ever had without me, which is the majority of them. I couldn’t stand her and her stupid champagne problems, yet I knew that I had the exact same issue. 

I smiled when I saw you. You did look very handsome in that suit and tie, carrying the bottle of champagne, Dom Perigon; my favorite. I knew somehow, what was going to happen in the next hour. I knew that I would say no, and I also knew that I would be breaking your heart. Maybe it goes with the long list of mental problems we assumed I must’ve had but I just couldn’t seem to allow myself to accept your proposition. God, the years we spent with those absolutely maddening people we grew to love. I must’ve learned more in college than I ever have or will in my entire lifetime, though I assume that is the reason for college. I hated to say it to you, I truly did. Although, I don’t think I will ever be ready to say yes, to anyone. I know what they will all say, the beautiful bride I could’ve become. But of course I’m stuck in my head, celebrating everything and drinking that stupid champagne all hours of the day. I really hope that you don’t hate me. I really did not wish to drop your hand in the middle of your favorite song, but it hurt far too much to continue dancing. The way you handed me back the picture of me from our Europe trip that you kept in your wallet, I couldn’t bear to see you so hurt. But I know you will find someone, far better than I, who will save you from yourself and help you out of the hole I dug for you. And she will be beautiful and a crowd pleaser and perfect, just like you. You will forget about me and my stupid champagne problems...