So Jessie Wallace’s husband has been caught cheating the day before their wedding, naughty boy. Texting his ex no less while she was as good as in her garter. He text his concerns about the impending wedding, his continued love for his ex and a picture of a stonking great hard-on. (Which one would presume was his, least the plot thickens) Unsurprisingly she was said to be devastated, shocked to the core. (And after all that weight loss too, not even a Christmas fitness video deal can keep a man focused these days it seems) fear not Cat you had a lucky escape, some men are born to cheat, it’s in their blood, the thrill of the chase, the secrets and deceit, to rip apart the sanctity of marriage and betray the trust of their nearest and dearest for a quick fumble in the photocopying room with the office junior, a pay per minute blowjob on a stag weekend in Dubrovnik or daily wank fest over tit shots from naughty_blonde85 met on cantkeepitinmytrousers.com.
On a lighter note my brother’s getting married on Friday, I wish them all the joy.
It wasn’t so long ago I might have been a bride myself. I was with my ex for a good amount of time; he was keen on the idea of tying the knot and making an honest women of me. Needless to say not only was this an impossibility (damage done and all that jazz) but I wasn’t keen either on the idea of settling down, I mean for heavens sake I was only 34, in the throws of youth, but a flighty young thing in the spring of her life. Call it ‘engagement jitters’, or ‘utter fear and claustrophobia at the thought of being tied to one man for the rest of my life who‘ll most likely start to get on my nerves 10 minutes after honeymoon touchdown’, whichever you prefer.
He almost had me when he asked me if I could get 2 weeks off and had ever heard of Sandy lanes in Barbados, (hey we’ve all got a price) but I eventually decided against accepting the impending proposal for fear of having to live with a man who had the full back catalogue of Neil Sedaka and was proud to be both a Conservative councillor and Father Christmas at the local fete every year. Two more Sauvignons and I’d have been down that aisle, as it was he’d caught me in a rare sober moment and I decided I was not cut out to be a councillor’s wife or spend the rest of my days having sex with someone who enjoys novelty costumes and polyester beards. To be fair he took the rejection on the chin and as is often the case with those ready to settle down was living with a new partner within 2 months, pregnant within 5 and married within 7. They are currently in the middle of a messy divorce and he has been recently sending me obscenities in a bid to re-kindle the flames.
Another success story.
Far be it for me to be unrepresentative however I have compiled a strong and convincing list of advantages to getting wed –
A Vera Wang dress, a private party at Sketch, 80 cases of Cristal and 2 weeks in the Maldives.
Regular Sex (allocate to advantage/disadvantage columns as you wish)
Regular Money. (Come on girls, Marc Jacobs A/W11 fuschia suede handbags don’t grow on trees)
Heavy objects or lack of having to lift there of
IKEA flat packs or lack of having to assemble there of
Light bulds, washing machines, ovens, fire alarms, MOT’s, DVD players, remote controls.
(I like to consider myself of reasonably independent means but have nevertheless been known to cook by candle light due to my total domestic incompetence, admitting you cannot re-tune a TV does not make you a 50’s housewife it makes you someone who would rather drink a nice gin & tonic than spend 2 hours of your life reading an instruction manual)
You see, I can do it, I’m all about the big day. Quite the blushing wannabe bride if you don’t mind. Who needs freedom, your own clean bed, no pubes in the shower or pants on the floor, butterflies in your tummy, love affairs with new and exciting strangers, not knowing who you’ll be loving and where you’ll be going a year from now when you can have a fire alarm that meets government health and safety guidelines.
Till death do us part? See you at the funeral.