On a recent evening out in Edinburgh with Mr B, after a lovely meal at The Hard Rock Cafe and on our way to see Elvis (ok Rob Kingsley from Prestonpans but pretty close) at the Playhouse, we passed a well known bridal boutique. Aaaaw I sighed as I pointed at the meringue like Cinderella frocks displayed in the window, to which Mr B’s charming response was, wait for it… “it’s never gonna f*****g happen!”
Shocked? I was especially when I know that Mr B is not at all potty mouthed normally, I can only assume the cocktails consumed with dinner brought out a new side to him. I have since been assured this was meant to be the epitome of witty responses and the language used was only to add to the comedy effect of the statement, h’mm.
I of course laughed it off, but the damage had been done, what had been a pleasant evening began to sour and ultimately ended in us sitting back to back on the train home in a huff that was to last until the next morning, Mr B because he felt I was taking something far too seriously which was meant to be a joke and me because, well I don’t really know.
Do I want to marry again? Why?
Do I think all marriages work? Of course not, I know from my own experience and plenty other peoples that marriage is not always a lifetime commitment, I went into my first marriage believing it would be and was proved wrong. Would I be in a better legal or financial position if I were married? No, in fact I am worse off living as part of a couple than I was as a single, working parent (crazy but true) and legally we have everything in place already to secure our assets and the childrens security should anything go wrong. Am I embarrassed about “living in sin”, definitely not, although I do struggle with how to refer to Mr B, my boyfriend? Too teenage drama. My partner? Too businesslike, so I tend to settle for my other half, which he pretty much is.
So why then would I still like to become Mrs B? Is it that I want the big day, the attention, the presents? I don’t think so, were I ever to marry again it would be with the minimum amount of people allowed at the local registrars followed by a celebratory pizza (hey it’s my day and I like pizza). Why then when I see a friend post on facebook announcing her engagement, accompanied by the obligatory snap of the newly adorned ring finger, do I feel the green eyed monster rear it’s ugly head instead of the joy I should feel for the happy couple? After such episodes the same routine would follow, a short burst of moody/weepiness followed by me taking it out on an unsuspecting and confused Mr B.
Mr B who has never been married, who doesn’t see the need, who hates to be the centre of attention, has no religious leanings so no desire to satisfy any wish to be married in any gods eyes. Mr B who I have no doubt at all loves me and will be there for me through thick and thin, who treats my children with more patience and attentiveness than I can sometimes muster. Mr B with whom I talk to more, argue with less and resolve our few conflicts better than I ever did with my actual husband but who doesn’t want to get married, or does he?
We have of course discussed the issue, after the Edinburgh evening it was impossible to ignore, so what was decided? Well Mr B in his wholly unromantic way of being romantic announced that of course he wants me to be Mrs B, and that once everything’s sorted (he still has his previous property to sell) we’ll do what needs to be done to make it official. What a proposal! No down on one knee and violins for me! Joking aside though, that it would seem was all I needed to hear. I may never walk down the aisle again or wear a wedding band and that is fine by me.
No more weeping at wedding photos or stopping pointedly outside jewellers window displays. Mr B is nothing if not honest (I have learnt not to ask his opinion unless I am totally sure I want to hear it), so to know he would be happy to make me his wife is enough for me.
Just incase though I have the Pizza Hut reservation number on speed dial 🙂 Watch this space …