On a scale of zero to a pap smear, saying I do is nowhere near as bad as you might think.
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And as you will be aware, I may have been overthinking my marriage just a little too much.
For which I have forgiven myself, after all, if we didn’t do the thinking girls, and left it all to men, what sort of mess would we really be in?
So, there I stood, staring at the man who was now my monogamous other half – for better or worse (more about that later).
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house – except mine – and I suspect the photos (you’ll recall the team of those I had engaged for the occasion) will be as spectacular as mandated by me in my final instructions to them, hissed sotto voce, as daddy and I walked into the church.
Then, of course, there was spontaneous post-exchange-of-rings applause (which is more easily arranged than you could imagine, with a few well-placed allies sprinkled through the crowd).
My man, bless his innocence, stood even taller as he imagined all this admiration was going to be part of his new life.
But life, my darling, has its twists and turns and there is only room for one celebrity per couple.
Couple.
Couple?
That brought me up sharply as we turned to walk back out of the church.
I have been married two minutes and am I already slipping into the tracksuit of life?
Couple.
We might be married but I am not Mrs Anyone.
How could I let myself get so off guard so easily?
As we started that slow stroll back up the aisle so everyone could rush out and kiss me, have their little moments in the sunshine, I was almost oblivious, tossing air kisses left and right while my mind stayed firmly on the straight and narrow.
Couple.
Now don’t think I have gone back into overthinking.
But couple?
He can be my husband; that condescendingly – and suitably – possessive because, and I’m sure you will agree, this man now works for me even if he hasn’t fully grasped that yet.
Yes, he will be an adorable addition to the team (with benefits not available to any of the others) but he will slowly come to realise he is a member of the team.
Which brings me back to my preferred subject – me telling myself to snap out of it, at least for today. All this thinking could put a furrow in my brow and how will that photo look in the society pages?
As we stepped into the sunshine the ever-so-patient crowd of well-wishers, those who thought they might have qualified for a seat inside and the usual smattering of the jealous and curious, also broke into polite applause (yes, I had more than enough people on call to sprinkle through that crowd as well).
And bless him again, he even waved to the assembled mob as if they were even interested in him.
Men really are such simple and shallow creatures; aren’t they?
A lot like puppies but with just a few more hang-ups and a lot more neediness.
I suddenly snapped out of my reverie when the husband decided to put a proprietary hand on my derriere – set off perfectly by having that part of the wedding gown of the season stretched skin tight across it.
For the cameras and the crowds, not for his well-intentioned fumbling.
Although once again that issue I am having with body chemistry and the juxtaposition of this plaything was rearing its ugly, rapacious, delightfully raunchy . . . stop it . . . head.
That’s one of the things you (usually, but not always) need two to achieve.
A couple of people.
A couple.
Couple.
So okay, maybe there is no immediate opportunity to escape that erroneous generalisation.
But if we put that aside, it is a delicious opportunity to further explore that word.
Couple?
Coupling?
Oh, yes, I do.