It feels like we have hit the cruise control of this summer, and we’re coasting through it at a comfortable pace toward the milestones of our lives that happen soon. Just a week left of July, and then two weeks in August, and it’s The Big Day, and then another few weeks. It feels like everything is comfortably spaced out.
That said, the enormity of that August day is starting to dwell on us, and we now have to order food and drink and seating arrangements and things for the party afterwards. We already have a hotel room booked for the night after, although our concern were more practical than romantic in choosing it. It is by the coast, yes. It is comfortable, yes. It could possibly be romantic too. But the primary reason for the choice is that it’s not too far away from the spot where we will marry. It’s not too far away from where the party will be. We will be able to retire easily enough when we have had our fill.
Though it is funny how both Mark’s mum and my mum have tried to depress any exaggerated expectation we might have of The Wedding Night by use of reminiscence and analogies to their own Big Days. In short, both have found cause to tell us that the most likely feeling we will have at the end of that day is utter exhaustion, and that there’s nothing wrong with that. Did your parents circumspectly tell you that we won’t stay up around the clock and have a long night of wanton sex? I think we had figured that out on our own without those embarrassing interludes.
There’s not a day that goes by now that we’re not required to give information, suggestions, advice and direct orders about what will happen on that day. Mark has taken out the big binder where his plans and preparations for the day has been collected. He sounds so determined and affirmative when he commands the person on the other end of the telephone.
In the drum-roll of decisions and arrangements that patter through these days, there’s a great stillness too. Like life is on hold. There’s this bit on this end of the day that is winding down, and then there’s that bit on the other side that is waiting to start. It only seem like different bits because of the big milestone that happens on the 16th. I can’t imagine that there will be any marked difference, except that we’ll own a new piece of paper proclaiming us Civil Partner and Civil Partner. Does life really change when you get that little piece of paper?
We have been together for two years now, and we’re well into a routine that is comfortable to both of us. Our relationship sometimes feels like it’s a slow meandering train-ride through a particularly pretty bit of countryside. We’re just sitting back, enjoying the sunshine. The occasional down-pours of our relationship is just spice, just things to take pictures of and admire later. By now we know each other so well. There won’t be any new, significant revelation on the other side of receiving the paper.
But maybe expectations will change? Maybe we’ll find that there’s new demands on us, new hopes, new requirements – both from outside and from within? I don’t know. I can’t imagine that there will be any of that, and then the question is why it feels like everything is on track and all right. Maybe being this comfortably numb about everything is in fact the lever that will change everything?