AITA for breaking down after not being invited to my Sandwich Artists Wedding?

Hi Reddit,

Currently writing this in the bathroom of my local Subway sandwich shop. I’m shaking so much I keep dropping my phone in the toilet so please excuse my grammar.

I am a 20 something M and extremely nice and friendly. I try to make friends everywhere I can. The morgue, school, gas stations, and most importantly Subway franchises.

Subway is home to one of the most intimate fast food experiences on the market. There are few establishments where the employees get as touchy feely as the certified Sandwich Artists™ at Subway get with your footlong.

Because of this, I tend to grow very close with Sandwich Artists™.

Specifically the one at my local Subway, the one next to the old Radio Shack that got closed for having a puppy mill in the back.

There is a Sandwich Artist™ there, named Gurdeep or Hardeep or Steve or something. I’m bad with names.

I first went to this Subway™ in 2008 after the Stock Market Crashed and I could no longer afford to eat at Chipotle. I couldn’t stand the idea of ordering food with pre selected ingredients so Subway seemed the logical choice and I was at the Radio Shack adopting a dog so I figured why not.

That’s when I first met Gur-whatshisname. I’ll never forget the first words he ever said to me: “Hello sir what sub for you?” which he said with what could almost be described as a smile.

I asked him what was good, and he said “I don’t know”.

He said it with such distaste, it was incredible. This was a guy with attitude. I was hooked.

I ordered a Cold Cut Classic with a drop of sub sauce, 6 fistfuls of lettuce, 3 tomatoes, and a ‘slathering’ of mayo, pressed down with as much force as possible.

He obliged by my every request in ways Chipotle never did. It was incredible.

For the next 15 years, I would eat at subway every Tuesday. I’d always order the same thing, and Gurwhatever would always make a delicious sandwich. He wasn’t talkative, but over the years he warmed up to me, and I learned more and more about him. I made a list in my diary of all the things I learned about him. Here’s an excerpt:

-He works at Subway
-He can’t eat olives because it gives him diarrhea
-He has a mom who also has a job
-He can’t eat lettuce because it gives him diarrhea
-He only vaguely remember 9/11 and has no strong feelings about it
-He hopes to one day attend a Queen concert (I don’t have to heart to tell him)
-He can’t eat ham because it gives him diarrhea
-He frequently has diarrhea

Last week after getting my scrotum pierced I decided to celebrate and go to Subway™.

Lo and behold one of my closest friends Gurdee-something was not there. His replacement, some woman named Victoria Mary Hernandez-Flores, age 26, Blood type B-, said he took the week off to get married.

I blacked out for 16 minutes and when the paramedics revived me I began to process what I heard. My best friend of 15 years didn’t invite me to his own wedding.

I didn’t expect to be best man or anything, but at least be part of the wedding party or something.

I held on to the hope that maybe his invitation just got lost in the mail. I bought a tent and camped outside my home next to the mailbox so I wouldn’t miss it. Days past and I never got any invitation from Ol G-Unit.

That leads me to today. I went to Subway™ to ask Victoria for details. But what I saw shook me to my core.

GurGur was there. I tried to keep my composure. I was shaking, sweating, and holding back tears.

I shakingly got my order out and GG got to work, and when he got to the step where he lubes up the footlong with mayo, I saw it:

A golden wedding band underneath his pristine white glove. I felt it was time to face it head on:

“G-g-g-got married huh?”

what he said next will be burned into my mind forever:


I fell to my knees. My world was shaken, broken.

I pulled the display case full of cookies off the counter and threw it at a doordash driver. I screamed, I wailed.

I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. And now here I am.

Just the thought of my former best friend diarrhea-ing in this bathroom makes me sick.

The police are outside the door. They’re saying I killed a doordash driver. I can’t go back to prison. Not again.

Reddit I need to know: Did I overreact? Am I the Asshole?

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