And so we are married

1 Aug

Husband and wife. I have a husband. This is going to take some getting used to.

What I’m used to, is having a partner. A boyfriend. A significant other. Not a fiance, I never quite got used to that; I’m not one for fluffed up words and calling The Boy my fiance just seemed a bit awkward, like we were playing grown-ups. Husband, on the other hand, is definitely grown up. While part of me still feels like a gangly 16-year-old with way too much attitude and not enough of much else, some small part is pretty chuffed to have scored itself a husband. Way to go, kid. Who would have thought you’d ever see that fairy tale pan out?

As for the day itself, I don’t remember much. I remember being nervous. Waves of nausea. Shaking so badly that most of the time while standing at the altar I was trying to talk myself into remaining upright while worrying about The Boy who was, by this point, looking more pale, clammy and teary than I was. And then it was over. We were married. People were smiling. I had gracefully refrained from vomiting in the Church and had some vague notion of having accomplished something quite huge and life changing that only required me to stutter through a couple of words that were slowly read out to me. The Boy looked happy so it was time for smiles, more smiles, and an exhausting but exciting day of seeing everyone I loved in one place, at one time, ready to tell horribly embarrassing stories about me while I wasn’t looking.

Now, lolling about in the sunshine of my first day of marriage, I kind of wish I could do it all over again. Watching Ry standing there, waiting for me, with this look of incomprehensible pleasure and adoration on his face. It’s a special moment, for sure. Aside from those first two weeks when we were alive with the shock and surprise of living together some three years ago, I don’t expect I’ll get that look often. It’s not a bad thing, partly because that look would be exhausting day in day out, especially when my hair is a mess, I have a coldsore, or am in one of my moods where I like to sit and stew over some imaginary indifference until I have convinced myself that we need to talk. It’d be pretty hard to believe that anyone could adore those moments. But mostly it’s because it’s been instantly replaced by something even more comforting; that you-and-me smile we share every day.

So yes, I’m looking forward to marriage. It feels very same-same, but different. I guess that’s what happens when you live together beforehand. But hey, at least I know what to expect. When the toilet seat is left up after three years of co-habitation you tend to just shrug, smile, and remember to bring it up in some unrelated, future argument.


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