I'm normally intolerant of my husband on a daily basis. However, having not really seen him for a few days due to him working away, me working late and him going out on the piss; I'm having a rare moment of rose-coloured-glow about my marriage.
I wasn't convinced at first. I wasn't used to a bloke asking me for a fiver on our first proper date to ensure he had enough cash for dinner so he "didn't have to put it on his card". He received the first of a lifetime of long, withering looks that had him reaching for his visa rather than stuffing the last poppadum in his mouth. He received the second of such looks later in the week when he invited me over for coffee at 11pm, only to 'discover' he didn't have a kettle. Hmmmm.
We are so different in so many ways, but in the most dangerous ways, we are peas in a pod. We are both hardcore drinkers and don't know how to say 'no' to things. Bad combination. It is probably the only wedding where neither the bride, nor the groom, remember saying 'hello' to any of their evening wedding guests. We had a row as I flashed my boobs and stomped off to bed but then had to return to get Stu to get me out of my dress as I couldn't undo it. Classy. My Dad had organised breakfast for our entire families and the wedding party the next morning but we were so hungover, we tried to miss it. We eventually were frogmarched down to a relatively frosty reception, only for Stu to vomit sporadically in the loos. He coped with this wedding-hangover by chilling out a bit on the boozing. I drank non-stop for the next 24 hours until I arrived, absolutely fucking fucked in the Seychelles to start our honeymoon. Stu woke for breakfast in business class as we were landing to find me with my arms around the rest of the cabin, champagne in hand, declaring myself 'best-friends forever' with every man and his dog.
It is a shame that such an intrinsically tight-fisted bastard ended up with a wife with champagne tastes, literally, just champagne, always. Stu is so much more generous these days, which is very, very lucky. We get on so much better because he really nearly almost seems to enjoy buying champers for me to drink in front of him now whilst letting him have a sniff of the cork.
On a serious note; he is absolutely my rock. He made me realise that my first ever 'heart-attack' at 35 was probably, more likely, just indigestion. He suffered a huge number of long and terrible flights with me before I was cured (Hallelujah! ;-)) Stu coped with the painful flight to New Zealand with me by eating everything that first class offered him. He didn't realise that eating 15 satay as the first course of seven was not compulsory. I was unable to offer guidance as I had taken a load of valium and then drunk the plane dry of Dom Perignon.
Good job we had kids, otherwise I think we would probably be dead by now. Stu is painfully and brutally honest though, sometimes at the most inopportune moments. I put out quite soon I thought after a long and traumatic first birth. I nestled post-coitally into my husband to check that all had been as expected. Only to receive the response: "bit bigger, but still alright." Really?!
The Dean, during the sermon at our wedding, suggested the key to marriage was being able to look over the fence at the attractive next-door neighbour but realise that doing anything other than looking over that fence could ruin everything. Stu and I have probably both had a quick nosey over a fence or two at some point in the last eight years but have decided that the comedy grass in our own garden is most definitely greener. x
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