Duffy despaired: It was unlikely airlines offer jilted bridesmaid insurance. Photo / Getty
When future anthropologists pick at the detritus of the 21st century, thumbing through card stock RSVPs and photo booth collages, they may grow exasperated at the peculiar rituals of the bridesmaid. There are tasks. Errands. Honor-bound duties. Matching dresses that occasionally resemble two peacocks in a fight.
The modern wedding industry has turned marriage into a self-serious, increasingly expensive endeavour that often warps the job of bridesmaid into an unpaid wedding planner. Weddings, and the events that surround them, have grown costly and complex for the parties involved.
This is how the odyssey of Courtney Duffy begins.
Duffy had a role to play in Alexandra's wedding. We're not quite sure what she was asked to do. The simplest responsibility for a bridesmaid is to stand by her glowing friend at the altar.
But more serious responsibilities turn bridesmaids into party planners, cake tasters, dress consultants, confidants, auxiliary hostesses and fixers.
Alexandra probably relied on Duffy to perform at least some of those duties. Duffy accepted and booked a cross-country JetBlue flight for the wedding, date and destination unknown to The Washington Post.
But there was a problem. Duffy, an MBA student at Dartmouth (according to her now-scrubbed Twitter profile), has been challenged by her school schedule. Class selection was dragging her down. It was affecting Duffy's commitment to the role, prompting Alexandra to make one of the hardest requests in her life, she said in an email that Duffy posted to Twitter.
Alexandra started a subject line in an email. "Hey Court!" it read. Alexandra thanked her for her commitment up to that point.
And then.
"I need to ask you to relinquish your duties as a bridesmaid," Alexandra told Duffy in an email.
Alexandra wanted her there. Still come, she pleaded. Have a blast.
"When I asked you, I was really hoping that you could be a part of this whole thing - the bachelorette trip, at least the weekend, prep and the full night of the event (a Sunday night flight means you won't even be able to be there for the whole wedding) . . . the whirlwind nature of what your travel has become just won't work with the duties as a party member. I'm so, so sorry!!" Alexandra wrote.
And there was another woman waiting in the wings, Alexandra explained. She needed Duffy to surrender her jumpsuit and hand it over like a suspended officer's badge and gun.
"I'll Venmo you the postage and the cost of the jumpsuit - just let me know the total," Alexandra wrote, an apparent effort to cushion the blow. "And if you'd like to chat on the phone, let me know! I promise we're totally cool!"
Signed:
All my love, Alex
Duffy laughed. Duffy cried, she told Jet Blue on Twitter. Duffy asked the airline for a refund, and posted Alexandra's email with her last name redacted to prove she was banished from the wedding party. After all, it is unlikely that airlines offer jilted bridesmaid insurance.
"I . . . must avoid this wedding at all costs. Pls help?" Duffy pleaded Friday.
Social media users immediately coalesced into two camps. On one side, the Alexandra faction, defending what they believed to be a reasonable and polite request.
And the other, the Duffy clan, outraged at the thought of a woman scorned, then replaced by an interloping but surely lovely candidate.
Please transfer this ticket to a beach location, and send the bride a picture of you swimming in the ocean in the jumpsuit.
— Jessica Huseman (@JessicaHuseman) July 27, 2018
JetBlue responded late Friday, offering to waive a cancellation fee so she could use her credit on another flight, company spokesperson Morgan Johnston told The Washington Post. It also offered a weekend trip on the company so the women could "patch things up."
What happened next, and potential fallout from the viral drama laid bare on Twitter, is unclear.
Duffy did not respond to a request for comment, and Alexandra could not be identified.
By now, it's reasonable to think that Alexandra has seen her email spiral across the internet, with strangers and reporters combing over every word of her email as her wedding day approaches.
Duffy has turned her Twitter account to private in the meantime. Perhaps her posts went too far. Or perhaps she is focused on a new semester.
The fall term is less than two weeks away, and she has a potential trip to plan with her newfound credit. It could be to Alexandra's wedding, if corporate public relations efforts help them pluck their relationship from the digital ash heap.
But for now, weddings seem a bit much for Duffy to handle.
"Weddings have gotten totally out of control - this is about more than just an email," she wrote on Twitter. "I'm hoping this thread reminds future lovebirds and bridal parties to keep their feet on the ground :)"