Log in | Jump |

The Other Side of Everything

making all our lives easier, more fulfilling, lovelier journeys

Archives

Written on August 7, 2006, and categorized as Secret and Invisible.
You can follow comments through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and trackbacks are closed.

Lost my partner,
What’ll I do?
Lost my partner,
What’ll I do?
Lost my partner,
What’ll I do?
Skip to my lou, my darlin’.

I’ll get another one
Prettier than you,
I’ll get another one
Prettier than you,
I’ll get another one
Prettier than you,
Skip to my Lou, my darlin’

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,
Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,
Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,
Skip to my Lou, my darlin’

Woke up this morning and skipped to my loo. This was mostly because I went to bed after drinking a precautionary pint of water after meeting up with an old friend after too long an absence; and slightly because my very loose, should-have-been-thrown-out-a-zillion-years-ago, full-of-holes-and-no-elastic, ultra-comfy faded red jogging trousers that I sometimes wear in bed (I know how to dress sexy) were falling down around my ankles, and it was a miracle that I survived the impact with the doorframe and still managed to expertly aim the jet. Women: pay attention. No cleaning up after necessary. Even half awake, bruised, rubbing a sore head, guess what? Zero splash. I’m sure you understand how proud I am of that.

This love-theme writing business is a rich vein of gold and I am still mining it. I have enough now for half a wedding ring. Which means, I can be half-married to someone. I can be standing at the altar, and confidently answering the question, Do You Take This Woman with, Maybe, Kind Of. How About, Every Other Week? So today, I ask myself, and you, and the cup of tea I have just finished, and my faded red trousers:

Marriage: Why?

So you meet someone lovely and you fall in love with them. It’s lovely. They are lovely. You feel lovely. That’s the nature of love. Then you spend lovely time together and the love continues to deepen and bring you untold joy and sweets. Fine. You go on holiday together and survive. You attempt Christmas and still want to see each other in the New Year. She survives the beer-breath and attempts at considerate behaviour. He survives the PMS and constant need to praise her fashion choices. All your friends keep telling you both that you seem really happy. You’re certainly spending a lot of time together. You begin to think there may be a future in this. Your vision is suddenly rosy, distorted, blurred, you see a red carpet of love extending onwards and upwards to eternal couple heaven, then there’s a congregation, an officiary, friends, family, people you don’t know eating all the food, there’s little bits of paper and rice on the floor, a loud clanging like God’s Own Dinner Gong, an exotic destination, painkillers, sunburn…

Oh dear. You’re married now. You’d better mean it then. Where’s the toilet paper? Damn I wish you wouldn’t do that!

I don’t want to go on and on about marriage. I will become depressed. I will come clean instead. I got engaged to Jane when I was 17 (several hundred years ago) and I bought her a diamond ring, and my heart was broken when we split up. Thank the Almighty God of Funk that we did split up, since she was a depressed and depressing girl from a depressing family in a depressing part of town. We met in a depression. I was depressed seeing her. I felt depressed when she called me, depressed by the way she never stayed the night, depressed by the boring sex we had, and I was depressed when she went off with God. God was the Head Boy. He was blond and middle-class. I punched him in the pub when I found them together one lunchtime and was banned thereafter. Believe me, this was out of character. My self-esteem was low. I do not condone violence as a solution. I was experiencing appalling jealousy. I was 17. I knew nothing. And now I will draw a veil over that depressing episode and move on.

So far in life, I have done the serial monogamy thing. Mostly I have had serious relationships with the women I have been fortunate enough to love. Tortured, damaged, troubled, deranged women. I’m not saying all my choices were good. It’s one reason I am taking on Cupid. Nonetheless, I have learned a lot and been shown a lot and there’s been a lot of caring. I don’t regret any of it even the tough years and the mad moments, and I still wanted to get married someday, until very recently. But then I met Lou.

Lou was pretty, young, romantic, intelligent, and savage, and I firmly believe she was sent by the Almighty God of Funk to put me right. I had the fabulous experience of a love affair that elevated me for 3 months to a height where angels seemed to sing to me from clouds of joy, followed by a solitary journey through the underworld of bitter pain and rejection, which lasted another 3 months.

Emotionally I was back where I started, astonished ay my own gullibility, and none the wiser for my journey. Then one day I was in the bath, thinking about all this, and I had my eureka moment. I just thought to myself, Deek, you are the round peg. Conventional relationships, marriage and all that, that is the square hole. Ergo, don’t do it. I pictured myself wearing a tshirt with the words

UNSUITABLE FOR MARRIAGE

written on it…

and I burst into laughter, loud and long, amplified by the tiles and shiny bathroom surfaces. Just at that moment, the postman walked by the bathroom window, and my guffaws erupted out of a silence so profound I saw the shadow leap back in shock. Poor postman, my revelation made him jump out of his skin and possibly damaged his life expectancy. Either way, at that moment, I felt the burden of expectation lift from my shoulders. I was still somehow harbouring a mad idea of being in some perfect example of the institution of marriage, even after years of evidence to the contrary, and bless her, in her thoughtless way, Lou completely knocked it out of me. I took off the invisible old heavy overcoat that I had been wearing since I was young, put on my nice new tshirt, and I went forth from that day relieved and unpressured, and prepared to be myself and do things in my own funky way for as long as I live and love.

I may yet backslide and marry, of course, but I promise you it will not be conventional. You are hereby invited to throw rice and paper, pin money on the dress, tie cans to the car, and provide toasters, but not at my wedding. My wedding will take place at dawn in the mountains, far from here, and there will just be me, my blushing beautiful bride, the scent of rosemary, the bees, the crickets, and the goats.

I didn’t tell you about the goats, did I?

NB: While I am getting well I am re-publishing some of my better articles. This was first published 26th January 2005, and is one of the most-read pieces I have written.

You might want to read

  • Skip To My Lou Lost my partner,What'll I do?Lost my partner,What'll I do?Lost my partner,What'll I do?Skip to my lou, my darlin'.I'll get another onePrettier than you,I'll get another onePrettier than […]
  • Three Fifteen Blues Woke up this morningIt was three fifteen a.m.Woke up this morningWas only three fifteen a.m.I ain't sleeping no more in this bedCoz last night the strangest dream cameDreamt I was a wizard […]
  • Black Tea: Soothing It's a good day for drinking tea. Scientists have been finding more things out about tea. This time, the more maligned black tea, often said to have much less of the goodie goodness of […]
Written by .
More about the author.

You can follow comments through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and trackbacks are closed.

This thing has 4 Comments

  1. Indigobusiness
    Posted 7 August, 2006 at 1:06 pm | Permalink

    While I’m not into tattoos much,
    save for Maori warriors and such, UNSUITABLE FOR MARRIAGE is food for thought.

  2. Laurie
    Posted 7 August, 2006 at 5:18 pm | Permalink

    I’m enjoying the repeat posts. Excellent ideaa.

  3. China Blue
    Posted 15 August, 2006 at 8:54 am | Permalink

    Aagh – that post has dredged up a few memories. I thought one day I’d be happily married. I was with a lovely man until recently, on and off over 6 years. We were engaged at one point. Then on one of our ‘off’ periods, I had all my silly illusions of love, loyalty and trust shattered by, oddly enough, a funk musician.
    I should be able to listen to Prince without wanting to punch the stereo, but I’m not there yet.

  4. jkluytf
    Posted 21 August, 2006 at 3:15 pm | Permalink

    I have a picture of some white mountain goats that look almost exactly the same as yours but there are three in a row: large, medium, and small. If I had a scanner I would show you and you would smile! You are hysterical! I have also known the agony and ecstasy of love. Take care.

Comments are currently closed