The Marriage

Again plot development. Forgive me, but the sex will come after a few chapters , so bear with me.

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Old wisdom says that you can never be a passive participant in your own marriage, but defiant being as I was, I was resolutely exactly that. It is with some regret though that I inform you now that I would have done well to have shown some modicum of participation, so that I could exercise what little control I could over the otherwise un-manageable situation. I would give the example of my wedding dress to make myself clear- the French had successfully given a very desirable twist to the term 'fashion'; low-cut gowns were all the vogue. Designing naughty lingerie was the new noble profession amongst ladies. Being naturally of a somewhat tomboyish inclination, I had never paid much attention to the clothes I wore. Darling old Martha was left in-charge and had done a good job so far, as her age and era of experience allowed. To put it simply, it was on the day of the wedding that I was rudely introduced to 'fashion' , with my decolletage almost spilling out of the a-bit-too-tight whalebone corset. The wedding gown promised much more than the usual till-death-do-us-part. All in all I was mortified, but then again I seemed to be the only one who was. Martha thought I was an angel, and my father...well He was too preoccupied with getting me to the church to notice anything else.

Now, as is proper for a bride to-be, I managed to conjure up the illusion of interest in my betrothed...without quite reaching the necessary blush (that seemed a bit over the top).When the pretense changed into reality I cannot point out exactly, suffice it to say that it was somewhere between me dressing up and the ride to the church. So, when I found myself confronting the heavy and intricately carved oak doors of the church, I did the most lady like thing in the world- I swooned. But, my mind ever so concerned about my vanity would have none of it and so I found myself restored even before the smelling salts were within a smelling distance. And that is how I lost my chance of a brief respite.

Walking down the aisle was another challenge, of course it would not have seemed as such had I been but wearing the usual kid-skin slippers .But as fate would have it, I walked in 5 inches high wedge like things, courtesy to my new wardrobe and husband who had apparently chosen the very best of the dresser in whole of Ireland. He was seemingly very French. So as the twin death- traps absorbed my whole attention, I had no idea of what waited for me at the end of the aisle. Only when I was face to face with the stranger who was also my betrothed did I look up.

I am sure readers you have conjured up an image from the erotic romance novel which you keep hidden at the very back of your underwear bureau- wherein you see the hero of our story giving me a salacious grin and me swooning at the very sight of him...but reign in your thoughts. What I saw, maybe described as a confirmation of my worst fear. Hold your thoughts again! He did not resemble a pig nor some other animal, he resembled a fetter- an inanimate object that comes in a variety forms and more often than not in something other than the conventional iron updo.

I had stared into a beautiful face, something which spoke of nobility and decorum. The well cut suit spoke of taste and elegance. His overall bearing suggested education and perfection. I was as is apparent only to me, repelled!

Readers, attraction has more to do with the person being attracted than the thing or person who is the object of desire.

You see readers, after years of living in a mental routine , we often fall prey to the misconception that we are familiar with every facet of our own personality. Unfortunately, even our maker is often surprised by the antics we sometimes manage to pull off.

The point of my long speech is to justify the reason of an expectation I had built up unconsciously. I saw both of us manufacturing defects .One Voiceless and One almost so to put it politely. But, seeing him, cemented a belief in my mind- the belief that we never would be equal. Social compatibility mattered naught, mental compatibility did. The fact was that the very moment I saw his black irises seek my face out I knew that he was a person far above me- in intellect and all other things that mattered. I was not to be a wife, I was chosen for a job with particular requirements and that I was to be an employee, whose only advantage would be that I would require no pay and that I couldn't threaten to leave my job.

And amidst all those reflections I sealed my fate with a brief and low " I do"...and he with a nod. I wish I could tell you about the wedding breakfast but I hardly noticed. What I noticed was me being perched on my now Husband's arm. Of course it would have made things easier had I been able to converse, but as god would have it, I found myself thanking half of Ireland on both our behalf's.

Goodbye's were said...and for the first time in years I saw my father's and Martha's relieved faces. The figurative curse on Darth manor had finally lifted.

I was married.