The only photograph you need from my Denim and Diamond Birthday Party. . .
My Suitor is a groomsmen for another of his peers . . . so I am off to attend another wedding!
For those curious mined, I look a bit like a pink ballerina . . . as the bride’s colors supposedly are a “light green” (I detest asking men what the wedding colors are for this very reason). Since the opposite of green is red; deductive reasoning would be the opposite of light green would be light red; or more pointedly: pink. –Do not want to blend in with the wedding party.
Ta ta for now!
I shall let you in on a little secret. . . My Suitor already queried my father for my hand in marriage. A while ago, apparently. I use this term with the modern definition to connote “a blessing/approval.”
Both of our parents are rather traditional and despite some people’s perception as an anti-feminist move; I disagree. I am a self-proclaimed “Daddy’s Girl” and My Suitor is definitely a “Mama’s Boy.” Having seen our elder brothers and sisters tear our families apart and invite discord within the nuclear family dynamics with their choices of intimates, My Suitor and I agreed we would not move forward without such a blessing from both sets of parents. It is very important to us, in-line with our distinct personalities, and our values. Admittedly, it is not for everyone. However, it is fitting for us.
So, how did the Meeting of Men go? From the little bit that I have gleaned from the last few months, it was rather realistic. My father says our temperaments are wonderfully matched and we are well-suited. However, he has misgivings about some other aspects of My Suitor’s life. As such, he laid forth a challenge of sorts, or an ultimatum, depending on you view it. My Suitor, who left his collegiate career, must return and complete his formal university education; after which My Suitor may be allowed issue a elaborate and grand proposal to me and we shall be married. My Suitor accepted these terms and is now struggling to finish school, continuing his no debt lifestyle and consequently working two to four jobs.
Many people close to me are incensed at my father’s terms. I find it rather romantic *clasps hands and bats eyelashes* A hero fighting for the love of a fair lady? How delightful! It is like Hercules and the Twelve Labours! (Sort of) His sacrifices makes me love and appreciate him more. I always wanted a gentleman to fight for me. Though oddly, in this instance, he is fighting with himself. . . put you understand my point. I know that during Meeting of Men, My Suitor calmly explained his reasons for leaving and surmised with a variant of ‘a degree is just a piece of paper.’ My father nodded once and considered this; “A degree IS just a piece of paper, and so is a marriage license; and you damn well better have that too!”–Like, I said, it was a serious conversation about expectations, reality, financial circumstances, and geographical logistics. I am more than willing to wait, as long as My Suitor is willing to fight; although I did tell him I demand to be married before I am forty!
Dear Readers I do hope you have or find someone (whether it is a significant other, a bosom friend, or family member) who will FIGHT for you! Everyone deserves that person in their corner.
Happy Valentines Day, Dear Readers!
It has started, already. The time of year when a wife or girlfriend mourns the temporary death of her relationship with her sports fanatic. In modern parlance it is referred to as a “Football Widow.” A term I was unfamiliar with until I began courting My Suitor. He cautioned me early about the perils of this temporary widowhood. I took it in stride and brushed it off. It was only a season. I do not consider myself needy. I am a “Youngest Child,” accustomed to making my own amusement if need be. What I failed to realize is singularity of my circumstance. American Football “season” is a misnomer. I assumed gentlemen watched only their professional team of choice, play. At this point, all veteran wives and girlfriends are shaking their heads at my foolishness. For those who love a sports fanatic know this is certainly not the reality of the situation. The purpose is to view as many games as possible!
It does not stop there in my case. My Suitor is a coach at a secondary academy, a semi-professional player, and a season ticket holder fanatic. I must suffer through the high school coaching season beginning in July with football camp, then there is college ball, pro ball, his semi-pro practices and games; after the Super Bowl, indoor arena football commences! *wails!* To top it off, My Suitor is also the girl’s basket ball coach, track coach, and general conditioning coach of the small school. His sports life and obligations are stretched over an entire year!
It is tragic in some ways. I have yet to devise a happy medium to cope with the loss of his loving presence. However, Victorian women spent inordinate amounts of time without their significant others. I looked to them for inspiration when I am not attending games in person to support My Suitor and cheer him on. After a bit of research on the subject of activities this is what I uncovered:
- Assist friends with their own projects
- Attend town lectures
- Call on friends and acquaintances
- Carriage rides in the park
- Catch up on my reading
- Continue my correspondences
- Devise devious social climbing schemes to take over the world, a la Mrs. Vanderbilt
- Dine out with Lady friends
- Go to art galleries and museums in the City
- Head out to one of the Country Estates and walk everywhere
- Host a rollicking good party
- Met the Ladies for tea
- Shop in Town
- Sign up for art and drawing courses
- Take up a musical instrument
- Visit mother for extended periods
- Write sordid stories and act them out, a la Jo March in Little Women
This season is looking more positive already! I had best get started straight away! *dons hat and gloves*gently nudges Suitor towards the door* Dear, do you not have some coaching to do? . . .
This is the “Sympathy” card my father gave me for this “difficult time . . .”
. . . So, if one has not already gathered, I am from the event planning philosophy of “Go Big or Go Home.” By “big” I mean elaborate detailing and time consuming enjoyment. I threw a “party” for My Suitor on Friday night, just for the two of us. The day was fraught with . . . improvising as small obstacles came up. First, and most frustratingly, the air conditioner on the floor I live on broke down. So I moved my planned event over to my parents dwelling. Or their backyard, to be precise. My mother was not in town and my father who was originally going to play along was under the weather. I had three and a half hours to stage! *panics*