Exactly one year ago today--I got the invite to the bachelorette trip in Mexico

I don’t know the exact moment it happened, but I think the official date when my family and I became (minorly) internet famous was June 25th, 2024. What I do know for certain is that the events leading up to that moment—the ones that nearly ended my marriage of 10 years (19 together)—happened exactly one year ago today.

I remember it clearly because my daughter earned a new stripe on her orange belt that day. I took a picture. I was crying—not just from pride, but also because I’d just had a huge fight with my husband. That photo popped up in my phone’s “memories” this morning. Thanks, algorithm.

The stress that led to that fight had been building for a while. It really started with something small—like so many fights do. I took my car to the tire store because Bubs had been bugging me about the tire pressure for a few days. It had turned into one of those stubborn standoffs that happen in marriage. He was 100% right—my tire pressure was low. He said it would be easy to drag the air compressor out and just fill it up--he could do it in minutes, but I didn’t like the tone he was using, so I kept insisting I’d take care of it.

So there I was, waiting in line of cars at Discount Tire, already annoyed that I had to admit he was right, when I got a knock on my window. I was startled and the knock took me out of my TikTok rot where I was watching happy couples dance and play harmless pranks on each other. I looked up to see an older woman I’d known my whole life. “Danielle, I thought that was you!” she said in the deepest Texas accent imaginable. For context: my grandma used to babysit her and her siblings. That’s how far back we go.

I expected the usual small talk. Instead, she hit me with:
“I haven’t had a chance to thank Craig yet, but please tell him we just think he’s sent from heaven!”

Oh, perfect. Not only does my forever-family friend recognize me when I’m frazzled and trying to avoid eye contact, she also loves my irritating husband more than she likes me.

“Oh yeah, we all love him. I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along,” I said, but with a very confused look on my face. 

She must have noticed my expression because she said “Well, you know my grandson lives for that swim team. And if Craig hadn’t stepped in to coach, they wouldn’t have had a season. Bless him, truly, bless him.”

That was actual news to me. Last I heard, Bubs had promised not to coach again. We didn’t have kids on the team anymore. The hours were brutal (5 a.m. practices for the 16+ age group), and he was already stretched way too thin. He promised me the previous summer that he was done.

I sat there, smiling at this sweet woman who's only crime was loving her grandson, trying to keep my rage from leaking through my gritted teeth. But internally, I was already planning the fight for when I got home.

Then came the second event, just minutes later—the one many of you regular readers already know about: the bachelorette trip to Mexico. Well that would come in June--this was the invite to the bachelorette trip in Mexico. 

That situation requires a little background. The two women who invited me—let’s call them Pat and Michelle—are people I’ve known basically my whole life. They’re a little older than me, but through mutual friends, similarly-aged kids, and general life overlap, I considered them friends. But even with that, I didn't really enjoy hanging out with Pat and Michelle because I always felt like a third wheel. 

Michelle was the bride-to-be, entering her second marriage. I knew her ex and had tried very hard to stay neutral. I also knew the new guy and... wasn’t impressed. But we weren’t close enough for my opinion to matter.

Pat was organizing the trip. She’s someone I’d had a massive falling out with. So when I saw her name pop up on my phone, I had no idea what to expect.

Flashback: Our pool was in desperate need of repair. It had been installed in the early '80s by Bubs’ grandparents and had limped along until a major failure the previous winter. We were down to two options—fill it in and be done with it, or fork over thousands to modernize it.

Because of where we lived, getting a pool company out was nearly impossible. Bubs did some research and felt confident that he, my dad, and my brother could do the job themselves and save us a ton of money. I begged him not to take on another project. We were already distant—I didn’t want to lose any more time with him. I promised to cut spending elsewhere and find someone to do it professionally.

Then I bumped into Pat. She told me her husband was expanding his contracting business into pool installation and repair. I legitimately thought that was a sign from God. I called him, he stopped by and he quoted me $8,000 to redo the whole plumbing and filtration system system. Pricey, but better than no pool or another DIY project that would suck away more of my husband's time.

I paid him half up front. And then…the utter nonsense started

First, he claimed he couldn’t find parts because our system was so old. But we had agreed—in writing—to a full replacement, not a patch job. Weeks went by and he apologized that he mixed us up with another customer. Finally a guy showed up to take out all the old equipment but he said he didn’t have the right tools and vanished. Then there was a truck with his company's name on that sat next to the curb in front of our house for a few days--with no one ever in it. The truck disappeared just as mysteriously as it showed up--Pat's husband claimed we'd never answered the door. 

While all this was going on, It would take a week or more for Pat’s husband to return any of my calls.

Bubs was beyond frustrated—with Pat's husband, and with me. Eventually, Bubs said he, my dad, and my brother were just going to do it themselves. He’d already reached out to Pat’s husband, who snapped that the deposit was “non-refundable.”

Bubs was livid that I’d convinced him not to do it in the first place. And he was right. In the end, for around $3,000 and two weekends of work, the three of them rebuilt our entire pool system—and it worked flawlessly.

I was mortified. But I was also determined. I wanted that $4,000 back. I tracked Pat’s husband down—at job sites, at his office... I even followed him into a bar once. Eventually, he broke. He told me I was unbelievably annoying, then walked me with me out of Wal Mart to his work truck and wrote me a check.

Shortly after that, Pat called to say our friendship was over and that it was “so unfair” and contractors already worked hard enough only to deal with ungrateful customers. I yelled back that her husband had ghosted me for weeks and if she can't see what's right and wrong here, then I didn't have a use for her either. 

So yeah. When I saw her name pop up on May 21st, 2024, I didn’t know what to expect.

She was shockingly friendly. She apologized for what she’d said a few weeks earlier. I thanked her—cordially, not warmly. I think she expected me to apologize too, because there was a long pause before she said, “You know Michelle is getting married again? Well, I planned a bachelorette trip, but our third just dropped out. I know you’ve said you’ve never had a vacation. I thought maybe you’d like to fill in?”

She said the hotel could be transferred easily, but I’d probably have to book my own flight.

And I thought about what had just happened at the tire store—about my husband volunteering for yet another commitment without telling me—and before I could second-guess myself, I said yes and headed for home.

I was still in battle mode about the coaching, but I thought I had an ace up my sleeve. And yes, I know how petty this sounds, but I thought, “Maybe when he sees how much it sucks to have your spouse gone when you need them, he’ll finally understand how hard it’s been for me.”

I got home, and the fight was... epic.

His defense: if he didn’t volunteer, the team would’ve folded.
My side: he was already working three jobs, coaching our son’s summer league baseball team and doing Jiu-Jitsu with our daughter—when exactly were he and I supposed to spend time together?

Then he hit me with the line that later got dragged on Reddit and YouTube:
“Hey, you’ve always wanted to go to Disney in the fall. Would that make you happy?”

Excuse me? Disney? In the fall--five months from now? So the U.S. Air Force, Taiwan’s semiconductor industry, my dad, my brother, our son, our daughter, and now some random teenagers on a swim team all get a piece of him—but I get Disney in the off-season? I don't even fucking really like Disney. 

That’s how little I mattered?

I thought I had a mic-drop moment when I told him about the trip. I thought he’d stop me. That he’d say, “Danielle, you’re right. I don’t want you to go. I’ll miss you too much.”

I wanted him to grab me and hold like he used to when we were teenagers, when the thought of me sleeping in bed that was only a couple a miles away from him broke his heart—back when I mattered most.

Instead, he said, “Yeah, I think you should go.”

My little ruse had set me up for heartbreak, and I still wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt.s

Shortly after, my mom walked in with Abby and TJ. Abby was rushing to get into her gi so Bubs could take her to Jiu-Jitsu. My mom asked me what was wrong, and before I could even answer, Bubs—now suddenly on an “urgent” work call—yelled from his office:

“Danielle (which I hate when he calls me by my whole first name), this call is important. I need you to get Abby to class. Leave now or you’ll be late.”

My mom, who’d been quietly watching the cracks form for months, gave me a perfect mom-hug and asked if I wanted her to take Abby. I said no—it would be good for me to get out of the house.

I held back tears the whole drive. At the end of class, the instructor announced that Abby was getting another stripe—now only a few steps from her green belt and if she made it, she would the youngest to ever do so.

I was so proud of her. And the moment gave me the perfect excuse to let out all the tears that had been building. I snapped a picture through the tears—her instructor tying the stripe on her belt.

That was exactly one year ago today.

And that day—those overlapping arguments, that phone call—is what set off a series of events that eventually led to thousands of strangers picking apart my life online.

It all started there.