So as previously mentioned in my first blog post my parents are married, but it's not your conventional state of wedlock. Dad claims that mum 'ambushed him' (his words exactly) into engagement by proposing to him on Valentines day - When there is a little known ye olde tradition that ladies may ask a gentlemen to marry them and if they are refused compensation must be paid in some form of glove (my guess is that washing up ones would be responded to with a swift kick to the offender's privates). Dad claims he was too cheap to buy gloves but instead committed to a life long relationship (let's not do the figures on that one or he may feel he made a mistake).
My dad is and was at the time openly gay, my mum, a blushing bride, wore a knitted Lunar Park jumper with white leggings and a mullet. Mum was nearly upstaged by a bride who hurtled up the 'aisle' (a church was definitely not involved) demanding to be married to my father instead. Apparently she was impersonating Mrs Havisham from Great Expectations, and when recently discussing this with mum she mistakenly said it was a 'Fabisham' impersonation. As it was a drag queen in a spectacular frock, I feel that her first description was accurate. They were married by the Reverend Mother Inferior from the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence (an order of gay male nuns) and the wedding guests were dressed in all manner of wild and wonderful outfits.
Obviously the ceremony was a tongue in cheek subversion of a traditional church ceremony, dad has said as one who enjoys 'epater les bourgeoisie' (ye olde French 19th Century poet's term for shocking the middle classes - my parents are so old fashioned) he felt the ceremony was a way to challenge people's views on gay men and how families are structured. Prior to the big event they did get officially joined at the registry office (a recent family tradition on my mum's side with her sister doing the same). This colourful beginning has meant that throughout my life once people have heard this story they sometimes assume that marriage is not something I would believe in. As demonstrated by my newly announced engagement, this is not the case.
When compared to many of my friends parents mum and dad are one of the few who are sans divorce. A few years ago they even celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary, dad came up to my mum's house and her partner (father of my brother and in our family since I was 3 ) cooked a beautiful lunch for us all. They exchanged gifts (coincidentally buying each other the same gift without knowing - silver bracelets ) and then went on a belated honeymoon to Hong Kong together. I'm also not ruling out the idea that my dad would never get a divorce because he enjoys the shock value too much, I remember going to cafe with him when I was younger and a man coming up to up to say hello to dad.
'And who's this?' the man asked smiling at me
'Oh this is my daughter, me and the wife's kid' dad casually dropped, the dropping only equalled by the man's jaw.
The fact is that I feel that they got married for all the right reasons. They had already been part of each others lives for many years, and supported each other through highs and lows. They knew they had the same goal for the future (me!!) and that they wanted to commit to continued support for each other through the new relationship created by having a child. These values are ones that I hope Chris and I will instill in our marriage. Commitment, support, allowing your partner the freedom to be who they are, and eventually creating a beautiful family together. Mine and Chris' family probably won't contain quite so many partners ,mothers, and kids (I have a number of other beautiful brothers and sisters through dad) as my 'nuclear unit' currently contains , but if it does turn out that way then I will consider myself blessed that my marriage is everything I want it to be - truly happy.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The engagement
Only a few years ago my parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. Dad is gay, and my mum and her partner have been together for at least 22 years (they also have a son). As a living breathing result of this particular marriage I have often pondered the concept of wedded bliss and how it fits in with my particular ideals. As it turns out, it does.
On the morning of mine and Chris' trip away I vomited (please note dad I AM NOT PREGNANT). It was a mixture of excitement and nerves ( and two pieces of toast with Vegimite) all telling me that I wasn't going to be the calm and rational cucumber (what a visual! hilarious!) about getting engaged that I'd always thought I would be. The last time I vomited from nerves was the morning Chris and I left to travel the world for a year, so you can see this showed I was feeling a little overwhelmed.
We were traveling down to Bawley Point, to check it out for a possible location for the wedding and to make our engagement official on our return. I had vague ideas that this would involve some kind of a nice dinner together, possibly a ring and probably a proposal at some stage. It was also Valentines day, a fact I wasn't overly pleased about since this Hallmark holiday generally makes me spew in my mouth a little.
We stopped at Berry on our way down the coast and bought pies (Country pies - oh how I love you, February the 14th should be national pie day - then I'd celebrate!) and wandered around looking for something to take with us for dinner. The Berry butcher had won awards for their sausages, and had about 6 different types to choose from (all containing a pleasing mix of various animal parts). Looking at the delicious delicious sausages first, we then looked at each other. An engagement dinner of sausages? They say honesty is important in a marriage (I guess you could say it's important in any relationship but that won't suit my point) and honestly we both wanted those sausages. These, with some French cider and some peanut butter cookies made up our delicious feast.
We took about 10 minutes to choose a ring at the local antique store, much to the confusion of the sales lady. What can I say? We know what we like. Sausages, country pies, and an amethyst and gold ring. After organising the ring to be re-sized it was time to hit the road for another hour or so and check in at our cabin at Bawley Point, dumping our bags before heading off to explore the area. First stop was the local community hall to confirm it as a location for the wedding (lock it in), followed by a drive by local accommodation possibilities (nothing but the most thoroughly researched option will do for our guests), peruse the nearest supermarket (I love that even in tiny tiny all white towns the supermarket - which is about the size of my lounge room - still has fresh tabbouleh in the 'deli') and then to the beach for a quick swim.
Back at the cabin I was ecstatic to find a spa bath and immediately dedicated myself to a minimum hour long soak - with bubbles. At some stage I got thirsty and requested a drink which was delivered by the lovely Chris (I say lovely because he had correctly determined the request for 'drink' as 'cocktail') who then plonked himself down on the floor of the bathroom with a long neck of Coopers to discuss various wedding things like guests and music (and possibly what marriage meant to us)
About 20 minutes into the discussion I interjected 'But you know you still haven't asked me to marry you!'
Chris looked at me, and took a sip of Coopers. 'Will you marry me?'
I paused for effect. 'Well of course I will but we can't tell everyone you asked me in the bath, my auntie Sandra will have hysterics. You will have to ask me again tomorrow at the beach. Oh and plus it's still valentines day so you will definitely have to ask me tomorrow!'
The next day (after Chris proposed to me at the beach while we watched a giant sting ray and discussed Steve Irwin's tragic demise) it was time to drive back to Sydney and make the official calls. We drew a varied lot of responses -
'Oh dear. Really? Am I meant to congratulate you?' (My aunt is a staunch 1970's feminist with a history of unhappy relationships who sees marriage as an oppressive institution)
'Are you pregnant? What are his prospects? What frock will I wear?' ( My father is relishing his role already - I have mentioned to my other siblings that I deserve credit for 'taking a bullet' and being the first one to test drive dad in full blown wedding mode)
'Well I guess I'll have to wear a nice black frock so we match when we give you away' (my stepfather is very tolerant of my fathers whims)
'Did he ask you on a surfboard?' (my rural aunt has a definite view of Chris as a surfer bum.)
'No auntie Sandra he didn't '
'Well then where did he ask you?'
'At the beach'
'So he WAS on a surfboard!!!"
'Sure. Whatever. You know it's such a shame you live so far away...'
There was also an avalanche of lovely phone calls and Facebook bombardment of well wishers, all of whom I would like to thank for their lovely words of congratulations.
So I guess this brings us to the current moment. The wedding is a year away so I can only guess what will happen.... In the mean time, the plan is to blog my way through as a way to remember it all, to help digest what this all means, and to enjoy it all to the full!
On the morning of mine and Chris' trip away I vomited (please note dad I AM NOT PREGNANT). It was a mixture of excitement and nerves ( and two pieces of toast with Vegimite) all telling me that I wasn't going to be the calm and rational cucumber (what a visual! hilarious!) about getting engaged that I'd always thought I would be. The last time I vomited from nerves was the morning Chris and I left to travel the world for a year, so you can see this showed I was feeling a little overwhelmed.
We were traveling down to Bawley Point, to check it out for a possible location for the wedding and to make our engagement official on our return. I had vague ideas that this would involve some kind of a nice dinner together, possibly a ring and probably a proposal at some stage. It was also Valentines day, a fact I wasn't overly pleased about since this Hallmark holiday generally makes me spew in my mouth a little.
We stopped at Berry on our way down the coast and bought pies (Country pies - oh how I love you, February the 14th should be national pie day - then I'd celebrate!) and wandered around looking for something to take with us for dinner. The Berry butcher had won awards for their sausages, and had about 6 different types to choose from (all containing a pleasing mix of various animal parts). Looking at the delicious delicious sausages first, we then looked at each other. An engagement dinner of sausages? They say honesty is important in a marriage (I guess you could say it's important in any relationship but that won't suit my point) and honestly we both wanted those sausages. These, with some French cider and some peanut butter cookies made up our delicious feast.
We took about 10 minutes to choose a ring at the local antique store, much to the confusion of the sales lady. What can I say? We know what we like. Sausages, country pies, and an amethyst and gold ring. After organising the ring to be re-sized it was time to hit the road for another hour or so and check in at our cabin at Bawley Point, dumping our bags before heading off to explore the area. First stop was the local community hall to confirm it as a location for the wedding (lock it in), followed by a drive by local accommodation possibilities (nothing but the most thoroughly researched option will do for our guests), peruse the nearest supermarket (I love that even in tiny tiny all white towns the supermarket - which is about the size of my lounge room - still has fresh tabbouleh in the 'deli') and then to the beach for a quick swim.
Back at the cabin I was ecstatic to find a spa bath and immediately dedicated myself to a minimum hour long soak - with bubbles. At some stage I got thirsty and requested a drink which was delivered by the lovely Chris (I say lovely because he had correctly determined the request for 'drink' as 'cocktail') who then plonked himself down on the floor of the bathroom with a long neck of Coopers to discuss various wedding things like guests and music (and possibly what marriage meant to us)
About 20 minutes into the discussion I interjected 'But you know you still haven't asked me to marry you!'
Chris looked at me, and took a sip of Coopers. 'Will you marry me?'
I paused for effect. 'Well of course I will but we can't tell everyone you asked me in the bath, my auntie Sandra will have hysterics. You will have to ask me again tomorrow at the beach. Oh and plus it's still valentines day so you will definitely have to ask me tomorrow!'
The next day (after Chris proposed to me at the beach while we watched a giant sting ray and discussed Steve Irwin's tragic demise) it was time to drive back to Sydney and make the official calls. We drew a varied lot of responses -
'Oh dear. Really? Am I meant to congratulate you?' (My aunt is a staunch 1970's feminist with a history of unhappy relationships who sees marriage as an oppressive institution)
'Are you pregnant? What are his prospects? What frock will I wear?' ( My father is relishing his role already - I have mentioned to my other siblings that I deserve credit for 'taking a bullet' and being the first one to test drive dad in full blown wedding mode)
'Well I guess I'll have to wear a nice black frock so we match when we give you away' (my stepfather is very tolerant of my fathers whims)
'Did he ask you on a surfboard?' (my rural aunt has a definite view of Chris as a surfer bum.)
'No auntie Sandra he didn't '
'Well then where did he ask you?'
'At the beach'
'So he WAS on a surfboard!!!"
'Sure. Whatever. You know it's such a shame you live so far away...'
There was also an avalanche of lovely phone calls and Facebook bombardment of well wishers, all of whom I would like to thank for their lovely words of congratulations.
So I guess this brings us to the current moment. The wedding is a year away so I can only guess what will happen.... In the mean time, the plan is to blog my way through as a way to remember it all, to help digest what this all means, and to enjoy it all to the full!
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