Advice for the Jilted Fiancé

Talk about your case of cold-hearted cold feet. I’m referring to that run-away bride Jennifer Wilbanks. She’s the woman from Georgia who secretly high-tailed it out of town just days before her mega-wedding. Her disappearance was long enough for the media to start salivating at the thought that her fiancé was the next Scott Peterson. Although the jilted groom, John Mason, showed no signs of nefarious behavior, having neither dyed his hair nor called on the services of a famed defense attorney.

While I’ll leave it to others to say what they will about the rushing bride, I’d like to give Mr. Mason some sage advice from one dumped lover to another. First in the immortal words of Nancy Reagan, “just say no” to all those television interviews. Partly because the chances are you’ve got a good case of temporary Tourette’s Syndrome and dissing your slightly loony lover with one of the seven words you can’t say on TV could be costly. Instead, consider a lucrative deal for a special edition of “The Bachelor” where the women run toward you. Or maybe an exclusive contract to appear on Desperate Housewives. Your story is guaranteed to give viewers of the women of Wisteria, hysteria.

By the way, if you are thinking about revenge, the bridal registry lends itself to a perfect plan. Those 600 invited wedding guests add up to a lot of ice buckets and coffee-makers. John, make that dashing dame return all the Kate Spade serving pieces, the Lenox China and the Belgian Waffle Iron. Standing in line for merchandise returns is its own private purgatory. While some have called for jailing Jennifer, I think she’s already suffered enough. For the rest of her life she will have to live with the image of herself at the airport with the world’s most hideous towel draped over her head. Did she not learn anything about marketing from Martha Stewart’s post-prison poncho? Although that towel of shame could end up making some big bucks on eBay.

Mr. Mason, I know you are sad now, but work with your notoriety. After I got dumped I didn’t have to pick up a dinner tab for two months. I was the poster child for a victim of love. Although there is a statute of limitations and it seems to run in direct proportion to your ability to watch romantic movies. If you’re still rooting for the boyfriend to croak despite a last minute life saving operation, you’re not ready. If your idea of an uplifting movie is “Love Story” or “Autumn in New York” where the girl dies at the end, you need more time.

Eventually you will get over this and be ready to date again. But be smarter. Draw up a list of non-negotiable items. I’m guessing that you’ll want someone who has never skipped town or been to Albuquerque. I’ve come up with a pretty good evaluation test. Spelling doesn’t count because it’s an oral exam administered somewhere between learning a potential date’s first and last name. It’s like the SAT’s. You can’t prep for it. It has none of those what’s your favorite food/color/Beatle questions. You want to know the important stuff. Like what’s your favorite mantra, which is more powerful the IRS or PMS and have you ever faked… an abduction?

Miss Wilbanks says she needed some time alone. Do yourself a favor John, make it a pre-wedding gift. Or maybe you should by her a LoJack necklace. And by the way, what are you doing Saturday night?

By Stephanie Becker