I met Stephen when I was at University. A few years older than myself, he was a junior Dr at the local hospital (friend of a friend type thing).
I was bowled over by what I thought was his charm and sophistication, I later came to realise that he was manipulative and cold but more of that later.
He had a relatively privileged upbringing as the only child of older parents who made sacrifices (enormous sacrifices really), whilst I was the younger of two children in a family where my dad had made a reasonable amount of money from his own business.
I was somewhat naive and thought he was 'so special' when I saw him in his open top sports car. He did all of the things that I thought of as 'exotic' (windsurfing, skiing, flying lessons) and he seemed to have an aura around him which attracted a circle of followers.
For some, unknown, reason, he turned his attention to me. In hindsight, I wonder if it coincided with me arriving at a cricket match with my brother in a (borrowed) Porsche.
I was wooed in classic fashion, flowers, poems, grand romantic gestures etc. You name it, he did it. I can't begin to explain how flattering it was.
He asked me to marry him after 3 months; he telephoned my dad to ask for his permission. Some friends thought I was mad but I told them that he was the love of my life. It was only later I learnt that he had asked my dad for money towards the engagement ring because I wanted an expensive one, (this wasn't true and he certainly didn't spend the amount he had 'borrowed')
The wedding was booked for the following September, again hindsight would suggest an undue haste.
Only the best was good for Stephen, my parents had suggested a local hotel but he pushed for a 5 star hotel in a stately home. The guest list grew and grew, 200 guests to a 4 course meal after the wedding, with another 300 in the evening.
A string quartet, a live band, a photographer from London because anybody local was too 'provincial' for him. I was complicit in all of this, swept along in the 'excitement.'
Of course, my dad was picking up the bill for all of this. And 'all of this' was (grotesquely) expensive. The meal alone was just over £100 per head. The champagne had to be vintage, the flowers needed to be 'better than anyone else's.'
I started to feel uneasy about 4 months before the 'big day.' there was nothing specific but I started to have doubts about him.
We had been to collect his new car from the garage, and I saw the way he spoke to the salesman and I felt shame. This was particularly relevant to me because my dad was 'a used car salesman' as Stephen put it! The fact that my dad owned several garages which were successful and the fact that my dad was paying for everything didn't seem to occur to him.
My uneasiness and unhappiness grew, I lost weight (a lot of it) I didn't sleep; I was drinking more than I should.
I finally made my decision three days (yes, 3 days) before the wedding. I told my dad first.
You need to know my dad was from working class stock, self-made man, down to earth etc he looked me up and down, touched my hair, hugged me and said, "better now than afterwards."
If only my mum had been so understanding. She said I had 'brought shame on the family!'
I told Stephen, he looked at me coldly and said I had 'humiliated' him. Which I had probably but never once did he tell me he loved me, he didn't cry (like I was doing).
The next couple of days passed in a blur, my dad's secretary (Janet - I'll love her forever) took over cancelling everything.
My mum didn't speak to me. At all. My dad gave me some cash and my brother drove me to a rented cottage in Devon and I spent a week wandering along the coast, crying.
My mum didn't speak to me for about three months; even now she wears a pinched expression when she looks at me sometimes.
One of my friends told me that she had never liked him; she thought he was 'rude with a sense of entitlement.'
You asked how it felt to cancel a wedding, it felt awful. It still feels awful. It isn't about the money which my dad lost (although I feel tremendous guilt) it's about my feelings of letting people down.
I've cried again writing this, I don't know why I got swept away by the event- the romance of it perhaps.
I do know that not marrying him was the right decision. I just did it too late.
Originally published on Quora