| |
Men are confusing. That’s all I’m saying on the matter.
Actually, scratch that, I’ve got plenty to say on the matter. Obviously.
Allow me to divulge...
Okay, so despite having had our religious nikkah ceremony and therefore not living in sin, M and I hadn’t got round to our wedding registry, so we’re technically not married in the eyes of the English law.
Julia thought it was totally weird. She is quite the opposite in that, if she and Miles were to wed, she would rather skip the church ceremony in favour of making sure she got the legal bit done so she has a cut of Miles’ money, should things go pear shaped. The pessimist.
I had to explain that, in our culture, the religious ceremony is king and the registry comes afterwards. However, it usually doesn’t come this long afterwards. It’s often a quick affair after the wedding and sometimes happens on the day itself.
There is no particular reason why M and I have been married so long without actually being legally married. We just haven’t got round to it. As we live in London away from our families, it was hard finding a weekend where everyone was free.
M was rather relaxed about the whole thing.
“The registry doesn’t mean anything anyway. It’s just paper. It’s not like I’ll be divorcing you,” he said.
“Yeah, obviously. You’re not gonna get better than this?” I said, running my hands down my shimmying waist, because I’m funny like that.
It’s silly we’ve left it this long. However, my new, glass half full self is looking at the positive in this delay. Having a registry long after the wedding provides another opportunity to dress up, get my makeup done and have a mini party, which would celebrate me (and M). I mean, did you really think I was gonna let my registry happen unceremoniously? Don’t be silly. Like I’ve always said, I don’t get many princess moments, so when they present themselves, I grab them with both hands. That means ensuring all family members are present for the occasion, which isn’t easy when you’ve got lots of family scattered around the country.
With a few precarious logistics to work out, we decided on something rather romantic. Or at least I decided on something rather romantic, M went along with it. We set a date for 9th September, exactly one year to the day we got married.
Now, as it’s a registry, I wanted this to follow a more English theme. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all the trimmings of my big fat Bangladeshi wedding - the 600+ guest list, the dramatic bejewelled lehenga, the Rapunzel-like false hair and the false eyelashes so long they could take someone else’s eye out. However, there’s a time and a place to be extra, and a registry office in the middle of Droylsden isn’t one of them.
This affair, let’s call it wedding part 2, will be classy. This is inspired by a rather pretentious wedding M and I attended a couple of weeks back. I failed to document it at the time because, well, if I hadn’t mentioned before I am busy living my best life. It’s been a summer of weddings, all of which were too distant for me to be intimately involved but close enough for us to get an invite. This, I have learnt, is the sweet spot when it comes to being a wedding guest. You don’t have to get involved with the crap like making taals or ferrying around older relatives who can’t drive. You don’t have to fight for the mirror with a houseful of other attendees. You get ready slowly in the comfort of your own room, or hotel if you’re staying over, and rock up looking fabulous.
I’m very much enjoying our new phase of life, attending weddings as a couple, rather than taking my little sister as a plus one, or being sat with mum while she henpecks dad and criticises my hair, makeup or saree. It’s also lovely to have the relentless queries around my single status replaced by questions about married life. I am, of course, glad to divulge that it’s bloody brilliant.
Anyway, the recent wedding was a decadent affair. It was held at a golf resort in Hampshire and you wouldn’t even know it was a Bengali wedding. There were name cards in lieu of the usual free for all. Guests had to RSVP (we forgot, we’re just not used to it). There were canapés. Canapés, I tell you! I don’t just mean samosas on a tray. These waiters were throwing around salmon blinis and cucumber sandwich squares. To top things off, the couple, flanked by many other loved-up couples, had their first dance to a string quartet. It felt like a brown version of Pride and Prejudice. Moreover, there wasn’t a judgmental auntie in sight. I didn’t catch a single eye roll, spot a lip grimace or overhear so much as a “hmmph!” The mother of the bride shed a tear while her daughter was having a rather up close slow dance with her new husband. That would not be my mum’s reaction if I was to do the same on my wedding day. It would be either tears of shame or, more likely, two slaps across the face.
My second wedding will be a smaller affair as it’s only immediate family (which still brings us up to 20), so we will forego many of the frills I saw at the pretentious wedding in Hampshire. However, there are a few details I will emulate. As it’s a registry rather than a religious ceremony, I will opt for a white gown, though not quite a full-on English bridal dress. One of the things I mourned previously - the slow death of the traditional saree in favour of more western gowns - will work to my advantage. I will buy a white gown from an Asian clothes shop. This means it will be blingy, therefore satisfying my need for sparkle, and cheaper, therefore keeping my stingy self happy. Win-win.
Along with the dress, I’m going to try out a little surprise on the day. M will be delighted.
Speaking of M, he’s booked a holiday for us a week later to celebrate reaching one year of marriage. This time we’ll be sampling the Middle Eastern delights of Marrakesh.
It was, of course, after all this meticulous planning that I realised this means I will only get one anniversary gift from M for the rest of our lives. Had I really thought it through, having the registry fall on a different date would have meant that we got married twice, allowing room to swing the idea of two presents for years to come. Oh well, it made sense at the time.
And this brings me to the matter of confusion. Sorry it took me so long to get there, I do like to build up the scene. It’s regarding the presents. We are just weeks away from our anniversary, yet M hasn’t said a thing about it. Not a peep. I had expected a hint at some point, or at least the discussion, as I know he’s not the most spontaneous sort. Given that we’re also largely joined at the hip, I can say for certain that he hasn’t been on any secret shopping trips. I have no clue what he’s planning, if anything at all.
Here’s the thing, M is a contradiction. He’s modern in many ways, yet seriously old school in others. He wasn’t initially going to buy me an engagement ring and expected that a Bangladeshi boat ring of his mum’s choice would suffice. Thank God that idea died a death and he surpassed my low expectations with a proper bended knee proposal on Millennium Bridge.
When it comes to the matter of surprises, the surprise is often that you don’t know what he will do. In the early days of our courtship, when he was in London and I was in Manchester, he’d often message a few days before, rather ominously: “We’ll do something different when I come up.”
My mind would be awash with thoughts of five-star meals or theatre dates. Then, when we’d meet on the day itself, he’d greet me with a shrug, saying: “So, what do you want to do?”
We’d usually end up in Nando’s or Chicken Cottage.
He arranged a surprise trip to Shakespeare’s Globe in honour of our first Valentine’s Day together. Yet when it came to my birthday, he didn’t have any surprises up his sleeve. Yes, he ordered a cake, but asked the question: “Are you expecting a present?”
While another girl may balk in horror at this lack of spontaneity, I’ve come to know M. FYI, the answer was “of course I want a present”. He got me a necklace, which, though not to my taste, was a good effort.
So that’s the thing. He’s modern yet old-fashioned. Clued up yet clueless. He sometimes marks occasions, sometimes misses the mark. And there’s absolutely no rhyme or reason for his behaviour. That’s why his silence on the anniversary present front is deafening.