On a table heaving with flowers at the wedding of one of my best friends, I was struggling to find my name.‘Sorry, Caroline, you’re not in this room. We’ve put you through here instead,’ said her aunt, leading me out of the stately banquet hall to a tatty side annexe and a table of complete strangers.‘There’s someone else on their own so it’s easier for the numbers and seating plan to put you both on this one.’No doubt my face said it all.You see, call me naive, but as a lifelong ride-or-die friend I thought I’d be at the heart of the action on Claire’s* biggest day – you know, somewhere I could hear the speeches and see the cake being cut.I was one of three old school friends invited, but while Cat and Ellie and their other halves enjoyed their four-courser in the plush surroundings near the top table, I was slumming it in the cheap seats.Dumped in this soulless overspill area with some empty wine boxes and a view of the waiting staff on their fag breaks, it seemed I’d been reduced to little more than an inconvenient anomaly among all the couples.And yes, even forgiving all the competing priorities and celebratory wedding haze, I felt hurt by the surprising thoughtlessness from someone who had been a big part of my life. But then weddings so often seem designed to humiliate or marginalise single people. As a lifelong friend I thought I’d be at the heart of the action on my best friend's biggest day, writes Caroline Bullock The occasion would have been transformed if I’d been allowed to bring a guest but I wasn’t given the option – and thought it rude to ask.I wasn’t dating anyone, and perhaps the bride felt adding a plus-one put pressure on me... but it would have been nice to be given the option of inviting a friend.I thought of my own plight when I read about the recent gripes concerning Taylor Swift’s forthcoming nuptials. The singer, reported to be marrying Travis Kelce next weekend, has allegedly vetoed plus-ones – causing one anonymous disgruntled invitee to suggest they might boycott the event entirely.I only wish I’d made the same decision. Instead, I tried to make the best of things on a table of ten – most of them Claire’s old work mates from a gap year temp job who largely reminisced over that.The other single female to my right was presumably supposed to be some kindred single spirit, but she was anything but, with a ‘me, me, me’ personality that soon grated.Meanwhile, the distant whoops and cheers coming from the main room taunted me as I was granted little more than a quick wave and smile from the bride as she made a brief stop-off to the annexe en route to the loos.However I tried to frame it, this felt like a crushing snub that had derailed a much-anticipated occasion. How could it not?For context, the bride was my childhood best friend, a constant in my life spanning two schools and all the rites of passage from Girl Guides and first boyfriends to package holidays and nights out at provincial nightclubs, a dynamic undimmed by distance or time.I wasn’t dating anyone, and perhaps the bride felt adding a plus-one put pressure on me... but it would have been nice to be given the option of inviting a friend I’d splashed out on some crystal wine glasses as a wedding gift, bought a new dress and had looked forward to the big day, which had started well enough on a sunny spring Sunday at a Surrey country estate.I’d shed a tear as the couple exchanged vows in the chapel and mingled with other guests over canapes and champagne, to a backdrop of a Grade-2 listed manor that had featured in Four Weddings and a Funeral. But my lack of a partner soon caught up with me.To be clear, I’m the last person to have any concerns over not having a significant other.I’ve never felt defined by relationships or seen singledom as an affliction to remedy. But some occasions do call for a wingman.Unless you’re blessed with bulletproof social confidence and limitless enthusiasm for small talk, flying solo at a wedding is a tough gig – a day that should be fun and celebration can rapidly become hard graft when you’re left feeling abandoned and vulnerable on the sidelines.Polite chatter with the bride’s other friends and distant relatives started to feel like one long interview – with the same old questions fired off.My response that I don’t have children is all too often a conversation cul-de-sac among all the new parents – a sense of ‘otherness’ heightened by the very fact I’d arrived alone.Later, as we all moved into another room to watch the first dance, I tried to muster enthusiasm but by now, and like the cheap champagne I had discarded, the day had left a bad taste.After all, I’d been airbrushed from all the main moments... a sober reminder of my (apparently) second-class single status.Names have been changed