When my old college friend Tessa asked me to be her bridesmaid, I agreed out of nostalgia more than closeness. She insisted she “couldn’t imagine her big day without me,” and I wanted to believe it meant something. The wedding was extravagant—vineyard venue, designer dresses, multiple events. By the time the big weekend arrived, I had already spent over $1,300 on travel, outfits, and gifts, but I told myself it was worth it for an old friend.

On the morning of the wedding, we were getting ready in matching robes, drinking champagne, and enjoying the moment. But as we arrived at the venue, a woman with a headset stopped me at the entrance. She checked her tablet and said, “You’re listed as a non-covered guest. We need your $5,000 event contribution before you can enter.” I laughed, thinking she was joking—until she didn’t laugh back. Then Tessa casually strolled over and said, “It’s standard. You agreed to this.”

I stared at her, stunned. I had never agreed to anything close to that. She smiled like it was no big deal and said, “If you want to be part of my wedding, that’s how it works.” In that moment, everything clicked—the sudden reconnection, the emotional flattery, the over-the-top plans. I realized I wasn’t a friend; I was a walking wallet she assumed she could squeeze.

So I did the only thing that made sense: I turned around, walked back to my car, and left. I didn’t argue, I didn’t plead, I didn’t give her a chance to twist my words. I blocked her on everything before I even made it to the highway. By the time she realized I was gone, I was already halfway home—$5,000 richer and one fake friend lighter.