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Four days and counting…

March 29, 2010

That’s right folks. Four days. Just four incy wincy little days. You heard it here first.

I. am. very. excited.

This weekend we were at another wedding – it was a beautiful Spring wedding in the Cotswolds where I grew up, a sublime part of England that seems to have fought off the advances of modernity thus far. Our friends got married in the Ivy Church, so called because many years ago ivy was allowed to grow over it, and it was forgotten. Till some kind soul found it and lovingly restored it. Even the ancient paintings and pulpit have been saved.  It really was a special place. And a special service.

And actually, spending the last two weeks with people who are making an incredible commitment to each other seems to have been timed in perfect unison with the similar commitment YB and I are about to make.  And a great opportunity for YB to trot out his newest most favourite party act: Smug Boyfriend.

You see, it goes like this. As always, weddings are a perfect opportunity to see old friends and so of course YB got to meet some of the people and relatives from my childhood.

After the usual premilinaries – ‘Here’s YB, we’ve been together three and half years, he’s from Yorkshire, yes he’s very tall’ – they’d ask the great inevitable question: “So when are you getting married?” This question usually sends YB into a spin, he shifts from one foot to the other,  mumbles something, makes a joke and then chuckles to no one in particular, all the while craning his head to see where the door/bar/eject button/parachute is. But not this time. Oh no. YB had a plan to foil them all. It goes like this:

Step 1: Smile and look at me. Deploy cheesy laughter.

Step 2: Say this: “Well, we’re actually moving in together next weekend; we’re very excited.”

Step 3:  Cue massive smug grin and eyeball the questioner. More cheesy laughter.

Worked like a charm, everytime. And yet….

On the way home we headed to a garden centre – YB wants to grow veggies on the roof terrace – and in amongst the turnip seeds and multipupose compost I noticed an almost imperceptible shift. We were shopping together – YB was picking veggies, I was advising on the right colour pots. We debated the merits of compost together and chose our one little tomato plant with perfect harmony. When we walked past some rose plants I asked if we could buy a rose. YB said yes. (He never says yes). And then we chose one – together – called Lady Emma. Yes, really.

Nothing major happened at the garden centre, but for the first time I really understood what this move means – to me, and to YB. I’ve been independent for so long, I have bought what I wanted, when I wanted it. I’ve never shared the cost of anything for my house because i’ve never really lived with someone. And now, those decisions, those shopping trips – they’ll be something I do with someone else.

It seems really simple I know, but there was a point, as I stood among the roses in the sunshine, watching YB ask the nice gardener man about potting onions and watering potatoes that I realised how much I am looking forward to sharing with him all the things I’ve spent ten years happily doing by myself.

One Comment leave one →
  1. March 29, 2010 3:25 pm

    I love YB’s little Smug Boyfriend act lol, very funny. And it’s cute that you are looking forward to sharing all those little things with him, it really is so great to share things like that with someone else!

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