Champagne and Socks

It’s sort of amusing how people want to know the minute you decide to get married but then the next question they ask is for all the details of the wedding. And it’s like, “What? He asked me, I said yes and then we called/told you.” When is there time for the details?

Maybe though, every little girl is supposed to plan their wedding down to the name place cards and the ring and the ceremony readings and … whatever. And maybe this little girl did, once upon a time. But then life happened. Lots of boys told her she was “too” as in “too serious”, “too smart”, “too intense” and even “too fat”. I think the thing I got most annoyed with was “you look so much better without your glasses on” – 35 year old me would now retort with “it’s because then I can’t see you so well.” Anyway. So after a while, when you’re “too too” and you have one or two disastrous relationships that go horribly horribly horribly wrong, well you begin to think it’s you. And then you begin to contemplate a life of being single. And when you do that, and you realise that you’re going to be ok if you spend the rest of your life single, well, you get past it. Which as it turned out was precisely what I needed to do to fit the whole “you’ll meet him when you least expect it” and all the other stuff people trot out.

But my point being that I spent a good year grieving for the life I thought I would always have. It looked like it was not going to happen after all. And I worked through it. I was sad, I was sad for a very long time, but I let myself feel that and in so doing worked beyond it. And part of that was giving up my childhood dream wedding. And my hopes for a Jewish wedding with all the dancing and so on. And it was really good to do that. Because I realised that expectations of what you think your life will be hold you down from going out and getting the life you will actually have. And when you constantly compare what is on offer to what you think it is  you want, you run the risk of not being able to see beyond the end of your nose. As in, well this doesn’t fit the image of what I think I want, therefore I reject it, rather than exploring the opportunity to see what it is in its own right.

Giving up the dream opened me up to meeting and falling in love with C. And he really is my other half. How could I ever have thought *anyone* else would be ok? How could I ever have thought that settling would be a better option than not, even if that meant being single? But giving up the dream means I also gave up any expectations – which is good, don’t get me wrong, I suddenly realised the other day that my life has become the adventure I always hoped I would have. I have made a life with a man who will travel, and sometimes that will involve me and sometimes it won’t, and I’m kind of looking forward to both. A life of adventure means change, which I hate, but it also means not getting stuck in a rut, hopefully. And I do want my life to be an adventure, I don’t want it to be all planned out and the same as everyone else’s. I want to drink in this life and see what it has to offer. And that’s not how I was settling in to live my life after the ex and before I met C.

But … no plans! This is my point. I don’t know *what* I want – what I like anymore. I’ve removed myself from a life of keeping up the Joneses and I’ve thrown away the rule book. Which means anything is possible. Which also feels a little bit like too much choice. Right this second is not the time to start planning the wedding. But with everyone asking me “well what do you want?” it occurs to me that I have no bloody idea. I was sad for a long time about not having a Jewish wedding but then the feminist in me pointed out all the things I may not like about the rituals, and now I’m kind of ok with not doing them. So … I don’t know what I want. We don’t have any plans. But I guess I’m getting exciting about spending the time researching to find out?

It feels really surreal. Like, wait, *I get to get married afterall*? Someone *really loves me*? And not just “someone” but the person I love and the person I most want to spend my life with. *He* feels the same way. And because he does, I now get to tell myself, “yes actually, someone does love you. And why wouldn’t they?” How far I’ve come dear blog.