If someone had told me that at the end of my friend’s wedding, there would be a woman who went back to the bridal suite with the bride and groom to sit with them and chat for an hour after everyone else had gone home, I’d think that woman might just be crazy.

Of course, you’ve probably guessed that crazy woman was me and, while I can’t really state with much confidence that there isn’t a little dash of insanity in my personality, I would like to explain one of the most mortifying moments I’ve had this year.

So, I went to my friend’s wedding which was a beautiful affair at a five star riverside hotel in Bangkok. I wore a dress that pre-Christmas fitted like a glove and, mid-January fitted like a sausage skin. I guess it must have shrunk a bit in the wash? It was snug but, thankfully, the zip held all night because I didn’t breathe all evening. I paired the dress with some sparkly low heels (low enough that I wouldn’t end the evening hobbling around and cursing under my breath bit high enough that they made me tower over my boyfriend who, barefoot, is the same height as me) and a teeny tiny useless bag. You know the kind of bag I mean — one that’s big enough to fit your lipstick and a few banknotes in it.

Anyway, I enjoyed the party — I mingled with friends, had my photo taken a lot and, as is customary in social situations, spent half the night uploading and “liking” updates from the event as I was there.

As the party drew to an end at around 10pm (so, so different from weddings I’ve been to in the United Kingdom, where people are carted home in the early hours), my boyfriend’s friends started rounding people up for a night on the tiles. I am a very sensible kind of girl, of course, and I didn’t want to be up late on a Sunday and risk not being up early for my pre-work gym session the next day so, I decided to go straight home.

A little back story here — my boyfriend is terrible for always choosing his friends over me. He’s not a bad boyfriend, but he seems to think it’s OK to only spend time with me when he has no other plans. So, when he decided to go on with his friends, I was quick to get mad. He tried waiting with me for a cab at the hotel, but I dramatically told him to leave me there and go with his friends. It feels kind of fun to be dramatic but then, afterwards, you realise it sucks to wait alone for a taxi. The next realisation I had, one minute after getting into the taxi, was that my handbag was too tiny to contain my house keys. My boyfriend had them and I didn’t know where he was. Never mind — I could just call him. Except that my phone battery died an hour ago and my stupid bag was too small to hold my phone charger.

I leapt out of the taxi — well, I hobbled out on my low sparkly heels — and ran back to the party. Thankfully, there were still two people there (otherwise, I think a night of sitting on my doorstep until the early hours of the morning was in order) — the bride and groom. They had no phone charge either and, so, that’s how I found myself returning with them to the bridal suite on their wedding night. It doesn’t feel good to do that, I can tell you. Third wheel, anyone?

As well as the obvious awkwardness of the situation, I felt like it was hard to apologise enough for being in the bridal suite while also not apologising too much and putting a big fat downer on their wedding high.

It’s also really hard to know how to react to your boyfriend when you’ve been so mad at him, but then you’re SO, SO grateful to see him arrive in the bridal suite with your house keys so that you can stop interrupting the most magical day of this very patient couple’s life so far.

I seriously think stuff like this only happens to me. My life is a farce.

So, next time someone asks me why I’m carrying so many bags — I am notorious for having a laptop, gym bag and handbag with me at all times — I will explain that small bags can ruin otherwise lovely days.