
What makes a bride turn into a bridezilla? Is it the nervousness and anxious thoughts that make brides lose their cool, or do they get angry because of other things?
Every woman wants her wedding day to be perfect, but when that stress gets intense, the brides either flip out or, let’s be real, their true colors start to show. Here are stories from five folks on Reddit who’ve witnessed some of the most jaw-dropping bridezilla moments.
Comments have been edited for clarity and grammar.
1. My Best Friend’s Wedding
u/ajlawford: I had a silent bridezilla. She was my best friend of 15 years and didn’t ask for much during the wedding planning as there were only two months between the engagement and the wedding day.
There was no bachelorette party, dress shopping, gift exchanges, or in-person meetups. We lived two hours away, but she didn’t want my input.

A woman talking to another woman | Source: Shutterstock
She wanted me to buy a dress, look pretty, and attend her wedding. I thought, “OK, whatever you want. You’re my best friend, and I’m excited you are getting married.”
She didn’t even let me help with her hair and makeup on the wedding day. Instead, she just asked me to focus on my hair and makeup. She didn’t trust me to do it well enough because I had short hair. Okay, fine. It’s your day, whatever.
Everything went well until the bride got her sister to call me. During the two-hour-long call, the bride’s sister criticized my every move throughout the wedding, saying that I should never have accepted to be a bridesmaid if I didn’t want to participate.
She also reviewed my Facebook profile to note what I had spent my money on (for example, I posted about joining a bowling league for fun). She said I should have spent that money on the wedding.

An angry woman talking on her phone | Source: Shutterstock
The wedding was two days after Christmas, and her family didn’t even celebrate Christmas that year because of the wedding.
Meanwhile, I was criticized for not spending more time with her, even though I traveled three hours by train the day after Christmas to hang with her the night before her wedding.
Apparently, I should have stayed the night of the wedding to hang with the other two bridesmaids, but I opted to drive home with my boyfriend as I needed to work.
Initially, the bride said she would pay for my makeup on the wedding day, but she changed her mind two weeks before the event.
She asked me to drive for two hours and buy an expensive makeup brand. Despite knowing I was broke after Christmas shopping, I accepted her wish and purchased the makeup. However, she still thought I had an attitude about this.

Two women arguing | Source: Shutterstock
I was also criticized for not giving a gift, although the bride said, “Being a bridesmaid was gift enough.”
After these events, the bride stopped talking to me and blocked me on Facebook. After months of being mistreated, I finally cut my best friend and her sister out of my life.
The last time I saw either of them was the wedding day, which was five years ago. I never even got to see the wedding photos. It’s so sad to see long-term friendships ending over nothing.
She should have told me about her expectations instead of expecting me to guess them and then judge me for not meeting her demands. She also should have talked to me directly instead of involving her sister.
2. She Was Mean as Hell
u/sojadedblond: A friend took out a $7500 loan for her wedding. Okay, that was not too bad. It was workable and sounded pretty reasonable. Then, she asked her fiancé to take out a $25,000 loan. (She forced him by saying she’d leave him if he didn’t.)

A woman arguing with a man | Source: Shutterstock
He had much better credit and got the loan. Then, my friend begged his parents to pay for their honeymoon while they had no idea she had asked their son to take out a loan.
They thought her parents were paying for a modest outside wedding at a local garden, and she repeatedly lied to them until a few weeks before the wedding. She kept threatening to leave her fiancé if he didn’t do things as she wanted them done.
Anyway, his parents were so happy to pay for a cruise (a nice Alaskan cruise) for their honeymoon, but that wasn’t enough for her.
She then lied to her parents, saying that his parents were only giving them $250 for the honeymoon. Her parents were shocked as they were paying for the wedding and reception and thought the groom’s family would at least pay for some of the honeymoon.

Two champagne glasses | Source: Unsplash
They encouraged her to get a better job (she worked 20 hours a week as a receptionist at a nail salon) or to at least go full-time at her current job, but she flat-out refused, saying she had so much to do in planning for the wedding/honeymoon, etc. She was an absolute nightmare.
She and I hadn’t talked since high school (we weren’t very close, more like acquaintances), and she had gotten my number from a mutual friend to call and ask if I’d sing at her wedding.
During that phone call, she told me about everything that happened. She added that she wanted her fiancé to take off two and a half weeks instead of the nine days he’d already taken.
When she asked me what she should do about the honeymoon, I told her she was being a little unreasonable and very demanding with people.
I said it gently and kindly. I wasn’t just like, “Wow, you’re being the worst person ever right now, and your fiancé is really stupid to marry you for a lifetime.”

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock
I said, “It seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on everyone around you to do things your way and only your way. This is Evan’s wedding, too. Maybe ask him what he’d like. Planning this together instead of you alone can be much more fun. You guys will be together for a lifetime, so putting this much stress on everyone, yourself included, just makes things so much harder than they have to be.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “Uh, okay, I deserve this wedding, and Evan will give me what I want. I don’t want you to sing at the wedding. You’re so mean for telling me I don’t deserve a beautiful wedding!”
When I tried to explain that I thought she could have a gorgeous wedding, just with less stress and anxiety, she said, “You’re just like everyone else. You don’t want me to be happy! My dad keeps telling me to get a better job, and Evan fought to get the loan, and you saying this makes me want to give up!”
After that, she burst into hysterical tears and hung up. It was bizarre. She was like that in high school: very dramatic, mean, and selfish. However, I don’t remember her being that crazy and delusional. They got divorced 14 months after the wedding.
3. The Bridezilla Tried to Scam the Bridesmaids
u/ShamedShamingShamer: Several years ago, a friend asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. There were six bridesmaids and one maid of honor (MOH).

Women sitting together | Source: Shutterstock
The bride had picked out her dress already, one for the MOH and one each for the bridesmaids. The dresses were lovely but a bit expensive at $400 each.
Two bridesmaids, including me, were still in college, and the rest had graduated. Since I was still studying, my budget was super tight.
Once the bride picked the dresses for us, she asked the MOH to coordinate with us for the fittings. The MOH told us she would pay for our dresses using her credit card because she wanted Air Miles. She asked us to pay her directly and said we could repay her in installments if needed (I definitely needed to). We all agreed.
All the bridesmaids picked their dresses together, but I couldn’t join them because of my exams. As a result, I decided to go myself the following week.
The MOH said she would pay for mine on the group trip but to call her if there were any issues with the dress. She said she would handle it.

Wedding dresses hanging in a shop | Source: Pexels
When I tried the dress at the shop, it looked perfect, and I was happy. The shop owner went to attend to another client while I was changing back into my clothes, but she confirmed that we were all set.
As I was walking out of the door, a shop employee yelled, “Hey! That will be $200!” I was stunned and totally mortified. I apologized and explained how I thought the MOH had paid for it the weekend before.
The shop owner immediately rushed towards us, diffusing the situation by confirming that the MOH had already paid for the dress. When I turned to leave the store, I realized the shop owner had said $200 and not $400.
Long story short, the dress was only for $200. When I confronted the MOH about it, she spilled the beans.

A shocked woman | Source: Shutterstock
Apparently, the bride and MOH plotted together to charge us double to help pay for the bride’s dress. I let the rest of the bridesmaids know, and four of us dropped out of the wedding immediately.
4. The Last-Minute Floral Fiasco
u/Haceldama: I am a florist, and we once had a bridezilla visit our shop. The bride came with her mother at 9 a.m.
They wanted to order a bridal bouquet, a mother-of-the-bride Cattleya orchid corsage, a boutonniere for the groom, and six smaller ones for the groomsmen.
The wedding was scheduled for noon, and they gave us only three hours to fulfill their order. They wanted everything ready by the time they were done with their makeup appointment at the beauty parlor a few doors down.

A flower shop | Source: Pexels
The bride was flipping through the FTD sample book and pointing out the style and flowers she wanted. She wanted to order garden roses with long sweeping trails of stephanotis and variegated ivy, all three of which would require at least a week’s advanced order with our suppliers.
The bride was shocked when we told her we didn’t always carry extremely expensive and highly perishable flowers. My boss told them that since they didn’t place an order beforehand, they would be limited to what we had in stock and simple styles that could be assembled quickly.
The bride and her mom kept pointing at the book and arguing that we should have those specific flowers in stock. My boss eventually took the book off the desk and tossed it behind the counter.
The bride vacillated between tears and petulant whining that we would ruin her big day. My boss, who disliked brides in general, told her she had ruined her day by not ordering flowers before her wedding day.

A sad bride sitting in a room | Source: Shutterstock
The mom tried chewing out my boss for lacking customer service skills. My boss told her she was welcome to go down the street to another florist and ask their flower department to make their order with whatever they had in stock.
The mom said she’d do just that and reassured the bride that she’d have her flowers done by the time her appointment was over. Both women stormed out.
I figured that was that, but my boss told me and the other girl to start on six simple dendrobium orchid bouts. Meanwhile, she threw together a ribbon-wrapped bridal bouquet with white roses nearly past their prime.
Twenty minutes later, the bride’s mother slunk back in and meekly asked if we could still assemble what they needed. We did. We also charged her a huge rush fee.
5. The Bridezilla Meets Karma
u/[deleted]: My friend called me one day and asked me to be her maid of honor. At first, I was thrilled. But then things took a bizarre turn.

Two women smiling at each other | Source: Pexels
She started oddly, asking me to dye my hair blonde, then demanded $1000 for her bachelorette. I was shocked but things worsened when she insisted I lose 10 pounds. I was taken aback by her demand.
Fuming, I thought about teaching her a lesson. But before I could do anything, karma intervened.
A week after our heated conversation, just a day before her wedding, she called me in a panic. “WHAT DID YOU DO??? I just got a call from my bank!” she said.
It turned out that her bank had frozen her account due to suspicious activity. In her pre-wedding frenzy, she had made so many extravagant purchases that the bank suspected fraud.

A bride screaming at her phone | Source: Shutterstock
One of my exes had his account frozen once and she needed advice as to what I’d done to help my ex-boyfriend. I worked as a banker back then. I refused to help her and hung up.
Have you ever seen a bride throw tantrums and get too demanding with her family and friends? Share your experience with us in the comments section.
My Wife Died in a Plane Crash 23 Years Ago – If Only I’d Known It Wouldn’t Be Our Last Meeting

After losing my wife Emily in a plane crash, I learned to live with regret. I spent 23 years mourning my lost love, only to discover that fate had left me one more meeting with her and a jolting truth I’d never dreamed of.
I stood at Emily’s grave, my fingers tracing the cold marble headstone. Twenty-three years, and the pain still felt fresh. The roses I’d brought were bright against the gray stone, like drops of blood on snow.

A grieving man in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Em,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “I should have listened.”
My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. I almost ignored it, but habit made me check the screen.
“Abraham?” my business partner James’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Sorry to bother you on your cemetery visit day.”
“It’s fine.” I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal. “What’s up?”
“Our new hire from Germany lands in a few hours. Could you pick her up? I’m stuck in meetings all afternoon.”

A man holding a phone in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at Emily’s headstone one last time. “Sure, I can do that.”
“Thanks, buddy. Her name’s Elsa. Flight lands at 2:30.”
“Text me the flight details. I’ll be there.”
The arrivals hall buzzed with activity as I held up my hastily made sign reading “ELSA.”
A young woman with honey-blonde hair caught my eye and walked over, pulling her suitcase. Something about her movement and the way she carried herself made my heart skip a beat.

A young woman in an airport waving her hand | Source: Midjourney
“Sir?” Her accent was slight but noticeable. “I’m Elsa.”
“Welcome to Chicago, Elsa. Please, call me Abraham.”
“Abraham.” She smiled, and for a moment, I felt dizzy. That smile reminded me so much of something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Shall we get your luggage?” I asked quickly, pushing the thought away.
On the drive to the office, she spoke about her move from Munich and her excitement about the new job. There was something familiar about her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

A man driving a car | Source: Midjourney
“I hope you don’t mind,” I said, “but the team usually does lunch together on Thursdays. Would you like to join us?”
“That would be wonderful! In Germany, we say ‘Lunch makes half the work.’”
I laughed. “We say something similar here… ‘Time flies when you’re having lunch!’”
“That’s terrible!” She giggled. “I love it.”
At lunch, Elsa had everyone in stitches with her stories. Her sense of humor matched mine perfectly — dry, slightly dark, with perfect timing. It was uncanny.

A delighted woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
“You know,” Mark from accounting said, “you two could be related. Same weird jokes.”
I laughed it off. “She’s young enough to be my daughter. Besides, my wife and I never had children.”
The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Emily and I had wanted children so badly.
Over the next few months, Elsa proved herself invaluable at work. She had my eye for detail and determination. Sometimes, watching her work reminded me so much of my late wife that my chest would tighten.

A woman in an office | Source: Midjourney
“Abraham?” Elsa knocked on my office door one afternoon. “My mother’s visiting from Germany next week. Would you like to join us for dinner? She’s dying to meet my new American family. I mean, my boss!”
I smiled at her choice of words. “I’d be honored.”
The restaurant the following weekend was quiet and elegant. Elsa’s mother, Elke, was studying me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. When Elsa excused herself to the restroom, Elke’s hand shot out, gripping my shoulder with surprising strength.
“Don’t you dare look at my daughter that way,” she hissed.

A furious senior woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
I jerked back. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I know everything about you, Abraham. Everything.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Let me tell you a story,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her eyes held mine, and suddenly I couldn’t look away. “A story about love, betrayal, and second chances.”
Elke leaned forward, her fingers wrapped around her wine glass. “Once, there was a woman who loved her husband more than life itself. They were young, passionate, and full of dreams.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with—”

An anxious man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Listen,” she commanded softly. “This woman wanted to give her husband something special. You see, there was an old friend… someone who’d had a falling out with her husband years ago. She thought, ‘What better gift than to heal old wounds?’“
My heart began to pound as Elke continued.
“She reached out to this friend, Patrick. Remember that name, Abraham? They met in secret, planning a surprise reconciliation for her husband’s birthday.”
The room seemed to spin. “How do you know about Patrick?”

A man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Then, just before the birthday celebration, she discovered something wonderful. She was pregnant. For a brief moment, everything was perfect. A baby, a reconciled friendship, a complete family… Just perfect.”
Her voice cracked. “But then came the photographs. Her husband’s sister, always so protective and jealous, brought them to him. Pictures of his wife walking with Patrick, talking, laughing, their secret meetings at the park. Everything. And instead of asking, instead of trusting the woman he claimed to love, he just—”
“Stop!” I whispered.

A shocked man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“He threw her out,” Elke continued. “Wouldn’t take her calls. Wouldn’t let her explain that she’d been planning his birthday surprise, that Patrick had agreed to come to the party, to make peace after all these years.”
Tears were running down her face now. “She tried to end it all. She wanted to just run away somewhere where nobody knew her. But her employer found her and got her help. Arranged for her to leave the country and start fresh. But the plane—”
“The plane crashed,” I finished, my voice hollow.

An airplane | Source: Unsplash
“Yes. The plane crashed. She was found with another passenger’s ID — a woman named Elke who hadn’t survived. Her face was unrecognizable. Required multiple surgeries to reconstruct. And all the while, she carried a child. Your child, Abraham.”
“EMILY?” The name came out as a broken whisper. “You’re ali—”
“ALIVE!” She nodded slowly, and I saw it then. Those eyes… beneath the different face, the changed features. Those same eyes I’d fallen in love with 25 years ago.
“And Elsa?”

A smiling senior woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Is your daughter.” She took a shaky breath. “When she told me about her wonderful new boss in Chicago and showed me your picture, I knew I had to come. I was afraid…”
“Afraid of what?”
“That history might repeat itself. That you might fall for her, not knowing who she was. The universe has a cruel sense of humor sometimes.”
I sat back, stunned. “All these months… the similar sense of humor, the familiar gestures. Jesus Christ! I was working alongside my own daughter?”

An emotional man | Source: Midjourney
“She has so much of you in her,” Emily said softly. “Your determination, your creativity. Even that terrible pun habit of yours.”
Elsa returned to find us both silent, tears streaming down my face. Emily took her hand.
“Sweetheart, we need to talk outside. There’s something you need to know. Come with me.”
They were gone for what felt like hours. I sat there, memories flooding back — Emily’s smile the day we met, our first dance, and the last terrible fight. Memories crashed over me like a boulder, and my head started to ache.

A stunned man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
When they returned, Elsa’s face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She stood there, staring at me like she was seeing a ghost.
“DAD?”
I nodded, unable to speak. She crossed the distance between us in three steps and threw her arms around my neck. I held her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling 23 years of loss and love crash over me at once.
“I always wondered,” she whispered against my shoulder. “Mom never talked about you, but I always felt like something was missing.”

A young woman in a bustling restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The weeks that followed were a blur of long conversations, shared memories, and tentative steps forward. Emily and I met for coffee, trying to bridge the gulf of years between us.
“I don’t expect things to go back to how they were,” she said one afternoon, watching Elsa through the café window as she parked her car. “Too much time has passed. But maybe we can build something new… for her sake.”
I watched my daughter — God, my daughter — walk toward us, her smile brightening the room. “I was so wrong, Emily. About everything,” I turned to my wife.

An emotional man looking outside | Source: Midjourney
“We both made mistakes,” she said softly. “But look what we made first.” She nodded toward Elsa, who was now arguing playfully with the barista about the proper way to make a cappuccino.
One evening, as we sat in my backyard watching the sunset, Emily finally told me about the crash. Her voice trembled as she recounted those terrifying moments.
“The plane went down over the lake,” she said, her fingers tightening around her tea cup. “I was one of 12 survivors. When they pulled me from the water, I was barely conscious, clutching a woman named Elke’s passport. We’d been seated together, talking about our pregnancies. She was pregnant too. But she didn’t make it.”

A sad woman with her eyes closed | Source: Midjourney
Emily’s eyes grew distant. “The doctors said it was a miracle both the baby and I survived. Third-degree burns covered most of my face and upper body. During the months of reconstructive surgery, I kept thinking about you, about how fate had given me a new face and a new chance. But I was scared, Abraham. Scared you wouldn’t believe me. Scared you’d reject us again.”
“I would have known you,” I whispered. “Somehow, I would have known.”
She smiled sadly. “Would you? You worked with our daughter for months without recognizing her.”

A senior woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
The truth of her words stabbed me. I thought about all the little moments over the years: the dreams where Emily was trying to tell me something, the strange sense of familiarity when I met Elsa, and the way my heart seemed to recognize what my mind couldn’t grasp.
“When I was strong enough,” Emily continued, “Elke’s family in Munich took me in. They’d lost their daughter, and I’d lost everything. We helped each other heal. They became Elsa’s family too. They knew my story and kept my secret. It wasn’t just my choice to make anymore.”

Grayscale shot of a woman holding a baby girl | Source: Unsplash
I left that conversation with a new understanding of the woman I’d thought I knew.
And while our relationship would never be perfect, I knew that sometimes the truth about people isn’t as clear as we think. Sometimes it takes 23 years, a twist of fate, and a daughter’s laugh to help us see what was there all along.
Finally, I understood something: Love isn’t about perfect endings.It’s about second chances and finding the courage to rebuild from the ashes of what was lost. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, those ashes give birth to something even more beautiful than what came before.

A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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