The Boy knows me well enough to know that I have expensive taste. The budget may not always match, but the taste is always expensive. So, while we were looking at engagement rings, the odd comment passed his lips about having to sell a kidney to pay for what I’ve been calling The Rocks.
Never mind the kidney, baby, just sell part of your liver. After all, that grows back!
I’m the sort of person who likes to have all their ducks in a row, to know exactly where they’re going and how they need to get there. I describe it as being organised. Being more of a ‘free spirit’, The Boy would be more likely to describe it as anal.
So, being an organised sort of person, I’ve started to do a bit of research into this whole wedding gig. In the course of that research I’ve looked at a few different weddings websites… Never mind Nightmare on
I know a wedding day is important, as it should be, but why do people go so overboard with it? Whatever happened to small, simple and elegant? Shouldn’t there be some element of fun in the planning?
I’m really looking forward to marrying The Boy. If my nerves survive the research, that is.
After so many years together, it’s relatively rare for The Boy to catch me completely and utterly unawares, to do something that really shocks and surprises me. He managed to do so a couple of weeks ago, though.
Yes, completely out of the blue, and not exactly at the most romantic of moments, The Boy asked me to become Mrs Boy. After checking that he was actually serious (was it rude of me to ask that twice??), I said yes.
So there you go. After many years of singledom, and quite a few years of happily living in sin, PJ Inthecity is going to become PJ Boy. A scary thought, but scary in an “I have to jump but I know he’ll catch me” kind of way, not a “this shower is good, but I wonder why this place is called Bates Motel” kind of way.
