My Predator Cousin Made Out With Every Boyfriend at Family Weddings.

The Golden Child and the Vineyard

My predator cousin made out with every boyfriend at family weddings until I brought my new guy, who’s actually her probation officer. I’m Megan, and before you ask, yes, I really did this, and no, I don’t feel bad about it.

Let me back up. My cousin Amber has been the family golden child since we were kids. Perfect blonde hair, perfect smile, perfect grades that our grandmother never shut up about.

But here’s what nobody wanted to acknowledge: Amber had this thing she did at weddings. Every single family wedding, without fail, she would find my boyfriend and she would kiss him.

I’m talking full-on making out in coat closets, behind the venue, in parked cars, anywhere she could get them alone. The first time it happened, I was 19. His name was Tyler.

We’d been dating for eight months, and I was completely in love with him in that desperate, all-consuming way you love someone when you’re 19 and don’t know any better. My cousin Jenna was getting married, and it was this huge outdoor wedding at a vineyard in Napa.

Tyler wore a suit for the first time ever, and I remember thinking he looked like someone I could actually have a future with. During the reception, Tyler said he was going to get some air. He’d been drinking a bit and seemed dizzy.

I was dancing with my aunt Patricia, so I just nodded. Twenty minutes later, I went looking for him. I found them behind the wine cellar building.

Amber had her hands in his hair, and Tyler had his hands on her waist, and they were kissing like the world was ending. When I gasped, they pulled apart. Tyler looked confused.

Amber looked at me with this expression I’ll never forget: not guilty, not sorry, just this small satisfied smile. She said, touching her lips like she was wiping away evidence: “Oh my god, Megan.” “I am so sorry. He came on to me. I swear I tried to push him away, but he was so insistent.”

Tyler immediately started apologizing, saying he was drunk, saying he didn’t know what happened, saying Amber was lying and she’d pulled him out there. I stood there in my bridesmaid dress, lavender silk that cost me $300 I didn’t have, and I felt like my entire body was shutting down.

My mom found us then, Jenna the bride found us, then Jenna’s new husband, and suddenly half the wedding was standing there watching me cry. Here’s the thing about family dynamics: here’s the thing about being the quiet cousin while Amber was the charismatic one.

Everyone believed her. My mother said later in the car ride home: “Tyler must have misread her friendliness.” “Amber would never do something like that deliberately; she’s not that kind of girl.”

I broke up with Tyler that night. He sent me 47 text messages over the next week. I blocked his number and tried to move on, but Amber’s smile haunted me—that small knowing smile that said she’d won something.

A Pattern of Stolen Moments

The second time it happened, I thought maybe I’d imagined the first time. Maybe I’d been paranoid; maybe Tyler really had come on to her, and I’d blamed the wrong person. His name was Chris.

I was 22, we’d been together for a year, and we were talking about moving in together. My uncle Raymond was getting married to his longtime partner in this beautiful ceremony in Portland.

Chris and I drove up together, singing along to terrible radio songs, making plans for our future. The wedding was perfect; the vows made me cry. Chris held my hand through the whole thing.

At the reception, I went to the bathroom. When I came back, Chris wasn’t at our table. I checked the bar, the dance floor, the outdoor patio.

I found him in the back hallway near the kitchen with Amber pressed against the wall, her leg hitched up around his hip, their mouths locked together. This time, I didn’t gasp; I just stood there.

When they finally noticed me, Amber did the same thing. She touched her lips and looked at me with wide, innocent eyes: “Megan, I’m so sorry.” “He told me you guys were having problems.” “He said you were on a break.”

I said quietly: “I thought we’re not on a break.”

Chris stammered: “Babe, I don’t know what happened.” “She grabbed me and I was just trying to push her off.”

I replied: “You had your hands on her ass, Chris.”

Again, family got involved, and again, Amber cried and said Chris had pursued her. Again, everyone believed her because Amber was Amber and I was just Megan, and surely Amber wouldn’t do this twice.

My aunt Lisa suggested gently: “Maybe you’re picking the wrong guys.” “Maybe you need to look at the common denominator here.”

The common denominator wasn’t me; it was Amber, but I couldn’t prove it. Honestly, after Chris, I started to wonder if maybe they were right. Maybe I was picking terrible guys who couldn’t resist my gorgeous cousin.

The third time it happened, I knew for sure. His name was David. I was 25, we’d been dating for two years, and he’d just proposed to me three weeks before my cousin Michelle’s wedding.

I was wearing my engagement ring, this simple gold band with a tiny diamond that David had saved up for months to buy. I didn’t even bring David as my date; he came separately because he had to work that morning.

He showed up right before the ceremony, kissed my cheek, and told me I looked beautiful. During the cocktail hour, I was talking to my grandmother about wedding plans. David said he was going to get a drink.

I watched him walk to the bar; I literally watched him. Fifteen minutes later, I went to find him. They were in the coat room.

Amber’s dress was hiked up, and David’s jacket was on the floor. I didn’t cry this time; I just stared. Amber saw me first, and this time she didn’t even try to hide the smile.

She just shrugged: “I’m sorry, Megan.”

But she wasn’t sorry at all. David tried to explain, tried to say she’d pulled him in there, that he’d been trying to leave, but I saw his hand on her thigh. I saw the lipstick on his collar.

I took off my engagement ring right there, dropped it on the floor between them, and walked out. That was two years ago. Since then, I haven’t brought anyone to a family wedding.

I’ve gone alone, sat at the singles table, and smiled politely while Amber brought different boyfriends and everyone cooed over how perfect she was. I stopped dating seriously and stopped trusting anyone enough to introduce them to my family.

My therapist said I had trust issues; my best friend Kayla said I needed to confront Amber directly. But how do you confront someone that everyone believes is an angel?