Gossip:Groom’s dad surprised everyone at the reception with a performance he’d been practising for weeks. He sang ‘Blurred Lines’ by Robin Thicke. Yes, that song basically about rape. What is your point?
My bank balance:£232.56
5
I. Am. Broken.
It’s Sunday night and I’ve spent a long weekend with Lauren and Joely at a wedding show fair thingy. Which means I’ve had forty-eight hours of being shoved out of the way by intense-looking women with unwashed hair in a bun and crazy eyes. There was this one particularly feral lady, who I think might haunt my dreams. She was trying to rip a bouquet in half to prove some kind of a point to a florist, and when security literally carried her away, she screamed that we were ‘cum for brains’ and that every single one of us would be ‘butt-fucked in hell’. The florist didn’t seem that bothered, she said it happens to a lot of her brides, and that the woman who’d been taken away – Marie – was usually a ‘really nice lady who works inHR.’ And yes, she’d still be providing her with the tulip and lily arrangements they’d agreed on in saner moments. Lauren was impressed with her professionalism – she says she’s going to hire her.
It was really full-on, and oh God, I’m worried about Lauren turning into one of those screaming ladies. I’m already seeing hints of it. There was definitely a moment earlier when I thought she was going to go full bridezilla over the type of chocolate they use in the chocolate fountain. It was like when Bruce Banner started his transformation into the Incredible Hulk but instead of gamma radiation, Lauren’s trigger is Lindt. Obviously I love her, but she’s always been a, er, high-octane human. Planning a giant wedding in less than six months is going to be the most stressful thing imaginable.
I got back from the event a couple of hours ago, drained and broken, to find Will already in bed, reading. He bounced up, pleased to see me, proudly presenting some fridge leftovers for my dinner. We watched an episode ofGame of Thronestogether, then had guilty sex, knowing full well it was inspired by the sexy incest. That show has really done a lot for the image of incest, hasn’t it? The producers should bill counsellors for all the hours of therapy we need now.
Lying in bed, I told Will about my day, and he listened intently as I told him how Lauren had settled ‘definitely this time’ on another gown. This will be her – hold on, let me count – seventh choice of wedding dress. She hated all the internet dresses she’d ordered (who saw that coming?) and we’ve been scouring bridal shops ever since for alternatives. Now all I see when I close my eyes is an endless sea of white silk. But Lauren says the dress is the most important part. She says that even if Charlie stands her up at the altar, so long as she has an incredible dress to wear, she ‘won’t care’. She started talking about how she’d be like Carrie Bradshaw, running after Big in her perfect dress. Forget the groom or the vows, Lauren says any decent wedding is only about the dress and the attention. Joely agreed very noisily with Lauren, so I did too.
Beside me, Will shifts into the big spoon and I can feel he is tensing to say something.
‘Lilah?’ he says sleepily into my neck. ‘Will you marry me?’
I sit bolt upright in bed. What the fuck?
‘Are you serious?’ I squeak, my heart suddenly beating too fast as a wave of sickness washes over me.
He opens one eye, squinting at me. ‘What?’
I turn to face him properly. He’s smirking. I fight the urge to shake him.
‘Will, I’m not kidding, I need to know if you’re being serious.’
‘Yeah, go on, marry me,’ he says, but his tone is still light.
‘You’re proposing to me like that? Are you really, seriously proposing to me like that? Is this a joke?’ I poke him and I can feel my palms are clammy. ‘Will? Will?’
He closes the eye again and smiles lazily, rolling over in the bed and away from me.
‘I’ll take that as an enthusiastic yes then,’ he says.
I stare down at him, my heart still thumping. Was it a joke? The tightness in my chest and shallow breathing indicates that my body, at least, thinks not. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned maybe becoming a Mr and Mrs, but it was always in a bigONE DAYkind of way. He’s made several references to it – casually talking about a misty, unrecognisable future together in the countryside wearing wellies. I would always smile and nod, without giving it much thought. And there’s certainly never been an actual proposal before – jokey or otherwise. Also, now I’m thinking about it, this is exactly the type of proposal Will would do: something laid back and post-coitus. He’s a low-key person, and doesn’t like drama and attention. He doesn’t have it in him to do something elaborate or public. He cringes at those viral flash-mob proposals that end up on YouTube and won’t even read Buzzfeed for fear of a dancing in-law.
Maybe this is...
No, no, come on, he’s joking, he must be. We’ve only been together about twenty months, and I still feel too young at twenty-eight to be thinking about marriage, even if everyone else is. But then, every age I’ve been has felt too young for anything grown-up. I’m still not sure I’m ready to lose my virginity, even though that ship sailed when I was fifteen, thanks to my summer holiday boyfriend, Jim.
Side note: Jim still sends me regular inappropriate Snapchats about taking my ‘cherry’. He got really excited by that cherry-themed filter recently.
Also, if I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure getting married is what I want anyway. I’ve never been that fussed about the idea. I wasn’t one of those kids dreaming about my Big Day or marching elaborately dressed Barbies up the aisle in my bedroom. I was usually too busy making my Barbies have sex with each other to worry about whether it was sanctioned in the eyes of the Lord. Marriage never really seemed like an important thing. I’ve talked about it a bit before with Lauren and Joely – and even Tom, actually – and they all said I would change my mind. I thought I probably would too, but actually, the more of my life I spend at these endless weddings and hen dos, the more sure I feel that it’s not for me. The expense, the showiness, the stress and the expectation raining down on you – none of it feels like it will ever appeal to me.
Plus, of course, my biggest marriage example isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement of the institution. My parents racked up a good twenty-five years of mutual loathing before their divorce. Would I really want to take the chance of ending up in something like that? I never want to hate someone as much as my parents hate each other. I know that isn’t the fault of marriage, exactly, but maybe they wouldn’t have stayed together for so long if they hadn’t signed a pointless piece of paper and made vows to a God they don’t even believe in.
Silence fills the room and I can feel Will is waiting beside me, his shoulders tense, but my throat is too tight to say anything.
I stare at a spot on his back and fight the urge to pop it. He hates it when I do that. Although it would probably resolve this maybe wanting-to-marry-me thing. He very nearly ended things during our fourth date, when we were meant to be watching the latest Marvel movie at his place, and I got obsessed with an ingrown hair on his leg. I ended up using my tweezers on it and he hid in the loo for half an hour until I swore I’d never do it again. But I was lying. Will says I’m a weird mixture of being too over-familiar and too private and hard to read. But he says it nicely, like he thinks it’s a good thing.
Right, enough now. God, even if a proposal was something I was waiting desperately for, getting engaged this year is completely out of the question. I’ve been to three weddings already in the last couple of months and I’m still reeling from Harriet’s last weekend. Maid of honour Nina and the other bridesmaids did a rap and Will hid in the loo for ninety per cent of the day. And we still have so many others to get through this year. Plus, of course, the ever-increasingly mammoth task of being maid of honour for Lauren. She keeps telling me in a jokey voice that I ‘better’ be there for her and how she needs my ‘absolute commitment’ as her maid of honour. I keep telling her I’m up for it and it’ll be fine, but I’m starting to really shit myself. There’s still so much to do, and Lauren keeps changing her mind about everything.
But what else can I say? I can’t say no now, just because it’s starting to look like this is going to require the most insane amount of time and effort – not to mention money – in human history. My overdraft is starting to creak and I’ve just applied for a third credit card to keep me going through this Year of a Million Weddings.
Lauren would also be completely livid if I got engaged ten seconds after her. Like I was copying her or trying to steal her thunder. We’re not at school anymore, with me trailing around behind cool, popular, beautiful Lauren. We’ve finally escaped that friendship dynamic – and I’m not about to start it up again.
