... pardon me, did you say 'cupid' or 'stupid' ?
seven years ago, one of my close male friends married a woman that nobody else 'liked'. it happens. and whilst i like to pride myself on my 'acceptance' and 'understanding', i have to admit that even i found it hard to understand why somebody with so much to give could tie themselves to a woman who was, frankly, the coldest bitch i think i've ever met.
despite my reservations, the underlying fact that it was really none of my business kept my mouth shut throughout their nuptial announcement and preparations. i sent an engagement gift, i phoned his parents to congratulate them, and i absolutely did not say "why the fuck are you marrying this frigid cow ?".
his fiancée planned a very stylish 'hens' night involving a posh dinner and an overnight stay in an expensive city hotel. i tend to prefer eating my own intestines to attending such soirees, but luckily that didn't matter because she didn't invite me anyway. and as that left me open for the evening, at my friends' insistence, i went to his stag party.
despite his group of friends being a fairly easygoing bunch, hell hath no fury like a bunch of single men about to lose their first victim to the evil of marriage. men get scared when this happens. they begin to worry that they might 'catch' it or something. they also view with utter hostility the awful reality of losing a friend to somebody who can't stand them.
upon my arrival at the stag party, the door was opened by a boy wearing an unzipped furry jacket and holding a margarita. three clubs and seven hours later, i was in much the same state as we arrived back i weaved my way through the jumble of crashed floor bods to the loo.
the 'stag' was the only one awake when i got back. we were plastered and we sang the joe jackson song 'real men' rather loudly. this was closely followed by two equally disturbing events: a rousing chorus of 'the devil went down to georgia', and my affianced friend breaking into a very large smile and ramming his tongue down my throat.
known for my stylishness when taken unawares, i had been waving my drink about to punctuate my 'singing' when this occurred, and i dropped it on his head. he said "ow" at the same time i said "what the fuck are you doing ?". he rubbed his head in response and said "it's pretty obvious what i'm doing, isn't it ?".
fair enough, i had to admit that it was. but i still had to ask him "ok, but why are you doing it to ME ?". his response was to lurch drunkenly at me, jump on me, and slur "i have to have you. you've been making me hard for seven years".
(what does one say to that ? thanks ? what is the etiquette in such situations ? is there any ? what to say to man with a 7 year old hard-on ?).
trailblazer that i am, i entered what still were emotionally unchartered waters for me. i couldn't stand the woman he was marrying. and i loved him (although not like that). here i was, with a chance to ruin her perfect posh plans fairly easily, and likely to be considered a hero for doing so as well.
yet, have you ever heard of the phenomenon where people cling passionately to each whilst dying ?. well, what i thought i had here was a diluted version of that. all of his friends hated that woman. but he loved her. he really did. and we all knew he did even though we could never understand why.
as i told him this, he looked at me, and his face was filled with confusion. i tried to make it light, tried to crank up the music again, but as he was officially banned from performing with his band after he got married, he just sat there listening to me sing for a minute before i gave up and told him that it would be better if i left him alone to sleep.
he didn't want me to go, but he didn't try to stop me. all the way home in the cab, and for the next week, i was sick with worry over him. he called me once and i didn't have the courage to take the call. they got married in hawaii a week later in a 'family only' ceremony and, 8 years later, are the proud parents of two beautiful small daughters.
which would be a happy ending if said beautiful small daughters got to visit the daddy that is no longer 'good enough' for mummy in the flat that he's just taken on a second job to afford. no, i have no regrets. and yes, to this day this i believe that this remains none of my business.
if anybody had to change the course of his 'destiny', i believe it had to be him. people are too ready to interfere and 'sort things out' for each other. so the options here are either a broken marriage or a marriage prevented from coming about by the deliberate actions of an uninvolved party.
i did, and always will, choose option number two. unless i wanted the responsibility for having a friend wonder for the rest of his life 'what might have been', i had no other option. unsurprisingly, he and i lost touch during their marriage. her revulsion at all that made him unique made it unbearable for me to be around them anyway, so it didn't much matter.
he called me not long ago from the flat he now lives in to tell me that the divorce was now final. he said was back to singing now, and that he had been invited to sing at a wedding some months back. in an almost unbearably bad-teen-movie kind of way, 'the wedding singer' was noticed by the chief bridesmaid, sparks flew, and somebody liked him for exactly what he was.
i hear his (ex) wife is kinda pissed that HER children can't seem to stop talking about how much fun their new 'aunty" is. apparently, she's not doing so well on her own. seems that her husband was a little bit more necessary and worthwhile than she thought.
and whilst i hate it that his little girls don't have him everyday, i was so happy to hear that the times he does have them, he's teaching them to sing. which they do. loudly and often. i can imagine that their mother hates this aural reminder of the beautiful man that helped her create them, and i somewhat unkindly hope that it continues to sting her for the rest of her life.
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