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!