In the past couple of weeks, several people have said to me, “You seem really calm and relaxed about the whole wedding”, therefore making me a) feel like I’m abnormal and b) stress out about the fact I’m not stressed (thanks Mum – I could have gotten your figure or your height [a lofty 5″4, for those interested] but no – you gave me the worrier gene. Appreciate it).
The thing is, The Boy and I have said for a while that as soon as our birthdays are over, we’ll resume wedding planning, sorting, panicking and whatnot – with us both turning 30 within a two-week period, there’s plenty of planning, sorting, panicking and whatnot on my side already (I am SO not ready to be 30. I’m still trying to decide which GCSEs to take. Are they still called GCSEs? God, I’m so old).
The Boy actually turned 30 this very week. He took it with grace, humour and no hint of neuroses. He’s not going to know what’s hit him when it’s my turn (he really won’t. He’s away for work, so I have big plans to hide behind the sofa, whimpering and repeating to myself “It’s ok, Alan Rickman didn’t get into acting until he was older, and look at how well it’s turned out for him. There’s still plenty of time to get that Oscar” and “Most writers don’t hit their stride until they’re a bit older. Never mind that you’re now two years older than Eleanor Catton was when she won the Booker Prize and you’re still no nearer to writing a synopsis, let alone an award-winning novel. And that you felt like a pretentious loser when you read her book because you didn’t get it” on a loop).
But I digress. I realise that this is loosely meant to be a wedding blog, and there’s been a distinct lack of wedding-y wisdom (or at least wedding-y details) for the past few weeks – normal service and crazed Bridezilla rants will resume shortly, once ‘What am I doing with my life now I’m almost 30’ angst has faded. For now, I’d like to talk a bit about The Boy and why he’s ace – for his birthday, I created an album with a few of the reasons why I think he’s the cat’s pyjamas (not our cat’s, hers are rubbish), and, while it’s always somewhere in the back of my mind, creating the album made me remember all the lovely things he does and why he’s an excellent human (not least writing blog posts for me when I have a mini writer’s block related meltdown).
And as I write a lot about us getting married, I think it’s only fair that you, lovely readers, get to know a few of the reasons why we’re doing so. Or, at least, why I’m marrying him. You’d have to ask him why he’s marrying me (go on, it’ll give him another excuse to do an “Ask the Boy” post). And because I’m old and miss the way they used to do the chart rundown at around this time each Sunday, I’m going to give you the top 10…
In at 10, because he has excellent fashion sense:
And at 9, he loves me despite our polar opposition when it comes to our finances, and the stress this must cause him (he likes savings, I like shoes).
At 8, he embraces my family, despite the fact there are almost 60 of them (that’s just parents, aunts, uncles and cousins), and hardly ever has to ask me who someone is. I didn’t even have to draw him a family tree, he memorised them all – even the ones I don’t see as much as I should.
7 – when we’re on holiday (in the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales – somewhere exotic) and we’re going for a walk, he smiles sweetly at me when I put on a dress and walking boots, instead of saying (as he probably should), “Are you mad woman?! We’re about to climb a mountain!” (Disclaimer: It may have been a hill.)
6 – he doesn’t mind when I bring a cuddly cat (he’s called Newton and is awesome) on those same holidays. And take photos of him, just to underline how cool I am:
Halfway there at 5, we have that he always tells me I look nice, even when I’m wearing no make up and a hoody.
At 4, if I were to ask him to, he would deny all knowledge of me ever wearing a hoody (to be clear, there is nothing wrong with wearing a hoody. It would just ruin my image as the weird girl who looks like she’s from the 1950s if people knew I still wore my Future Cheer jumper).
Now for the top three. At three; he comes with me to the Twinwood Festival every year, and used to volunteer in the museum with me and my grandad for the whole weekend, even though it’s not his thing, even though I almost never return the favour and watch football with him, and even though it sometimes means missing out on bank holiday fun with his friends.
(Shameless plug: Did I mention the finals of Miss Vintage UK 2015 will take place at this year’s Twinwood Festival? And that I’ve entered? If you haven’t already voted for me and you’d like to, all you need to do is like this picture: https://www.facebook.com/twinwoodevents/photos/a.10152666756157657.1073741838.30797112656/10152741483282657/?type=1&theater and you’ll be on my favourites list for quite some time).
Just missing out on the top spot, the second reason why I think he’s awesome is because he doesn’t mind that most of the time I do go out in outfits that are “a bit much” (his words). And that people sometimes ask me where I’ve bought some of those outfits. Like this incident in Cardiff, where I had a lovely, long chat with a wonderful girl about the wonders that are Collectif, Deadly is the Female and Pin Up Girl Clothing and all The Boy wanted to do was visit Game:
And at number one, for this week and always, is that he encourages me to be me. Before we met, I was always trying to act like the person I thought people wanted me to be, and I hid massive parts of who I was because I was afraid of what people would think. Now, as long as we’re both happy with what I’m doing, I genuinely don’t mind or care what other people think of me. And that’s a ruddy nice place to be.
This includes, but is not limited to:
- Being vocal about the fact I love Doctor Who instead of hiding it
- Embracing my love of history
- Wearing whatever the hell I want – my new motto is “If in doubt, overdress”. Which I do, frequently
- Knowing that it’s ok to be pissed off with someone if they’ve done something wrong, and to talk to them about it instead of avoiding confrontation
- Not being afraid to do something because of what other people think
Next week: this.