So sad and embittered about a world unjust to them, strangers dispose a plethora of unnecessary negativity. Pandy says they mean to be funny, and she is probably right, but I find such humorless, disposable commentary placed on innocent people to be a bit unfunny.

Strange to me, that as I hit a stride of happiness fueled by impending nupts, that someone I do not know would turn to me and say, “Don’t get married. Do not ever get married.”

Huh? What? Are you reading my mind right now, strange and tiny witch lady?

No. If she was a witch, Pandy would have told me. She was a bitter lady with a surprisingly sweet face dressed in All-Walls World blues, picking up on a conversation going on somewhere behind me with sharp ears. I looked at her hands and observed no ring. I wondered about her status and nearly asked if she was divorced, but I chose not to make it my conversation or even bare mention that it was too late for me, and I intended get my $40.00 worth of paperwork by marrying the man I have built a life with for a quantity of time you gotta double-bag. Like most things in life, it wasn’t about me, but if this strange woman’s reason for such an opinion could be neatly wrapped up in like a 4-page essay, I would gladly read it.

I don’t need an explanation or an excuse for the act in which we are conducting. We paid the $40.00, and now we’re going to get it back. It is our choice to formalize it, just as it is our choice to remain together in a universe that will push as much as it pulls. It is not done without sense or realistic intent. I cannot even say we do it out of love, for that seems to exist just fine and has all of this time without the bonus of matrimony. It is certainly done with love, but it is also done with all else we have built in this life, and that is a lot.

There is all kinds of pragmatism in it, like blah blah blah taxes, and knowing who is going to grab your butt in your old age. Oh, and if I get lost in the mall, I would much rather they call Keith than my Ma. 

There are more nuanced things—talks of a future that is not the one we imagined before we knew one another, but is now shaped by one another’s true needs and expectations. I can imagine everyday moments, and they are full of love, because this one is. It is more special than anything anyone in this world can give me, as I know there has been more than a decade of difficult crafting.

The thought of it being a legally-binding relationship often makes me laugh. “Take it to the judge!” I say when I am misbehaving.

Even stranger are the non-strangers with harsh opposition to the upcoming nupts. They are not strangers, because they have names, but like strangers with their unsolicited opinions and unexpected nastiness. It reminds me of the now seemingly ancient phrase, “h8rs gunn h8”. It baffles me that anyone can possibly care or think they know well enough to tell us we are wrong. There is almost nothing more tasteless. The modern “I object!” takes place not in a glowing cathedral (cue interrupting organ music) (now interrupt interrupting organ music) but behind closed doors where there are no eyes to rightfully cast shame and judgment back to you, a quiet place where you can take the time to specially carve out a creative excuse for your utter lack of compassion. You sting without punishment or redemption, and then you are lucky enough to scamper back into your dark hole instead of slinking down into a back-breaking pew with the weight of everyone else’s disappointment in you. But, as Keith implied, and I am now rephrasing with my own flowery language, hearing your spew now saves us from having to be interrupted later. It’s still not about you, you who knows us as well as a sour old lady in the boyish blue vest behind the register.

_{February 9th, 2024}

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