A Lucky Strike?
In the days and weeks leading up to my wedding, it has been by far the most asked question. Which has left me a little curious as to most people’s motivation for getting married. Why should I be nervous? It’s a party, after all, not an execution. Isn’t it..?
I have, therefore, until today, been laughing off the question with my typically weak attempts at affable candour.
And I say ‘until today’ because today is my wedding day. And yes, predictably, I am nervous. Thanks for asking.
But it’s not the idea of marriage, that is making me nervous. Nor is it any doubts that I have chosen the right person. I don’t believe you get married in your 30s on a whim, or are forced into an arranged union by an extended, and heavily armed family (subtle hints, with menacing undertones, from your Mother-in-Law notwithstanding). So there should be no doubt.
But it is the occasion, the ceremony, the speeches, and the wacky uncle with both a metaphysical, and literal, can of worms up his sleeve, than brings on a minor case of the jitters.
I am probably also nervous at being twenty grand poorer tomorrow. But I will at least be better dressed.
And our child-to-be can enter the world safe in the knowledge that a God who doesn’t exist will not send him to an imaginary place called Hell for being born out-of-wedlock. Just.
Although, I have requested, of said wacky uncle, that he brings an unloaded shotgun for the photographs, to give us something to hold over the child in years to come (as a sort of psychological punishment when he/she is acting up).
“It’s your fault we had to get married,” etc.
Asking an uncle to bring a shotgun to a wedding? It seemed like a good idea at the time.
At least I will have no-one else to blame, when that can of worms does eventually (and at a wedding, it always does) pop.
