A few blocks away from mine and Chris’ apartment lives a man called Cliff. Cliff inhabits a caravan, and rents the adjoining garages of two houses on a little back lane. He runs his bike business out of these, using one as a workshop and the other for storage. Cliff is a salt of the earth kind of guy, an old school bloke who talks straight (‘See what you’ve done to your chain? You’ve fucked it mate’). He has a grown up daughter and I think there may have been a marriage somewhere in his past, but now it’s just him and his terrier Spinner.
I was heading down to pay an overdue bill for our latest bike service, and as I turned the corner into his lane I could see that he was enjoying a Saturday afternoon BBQ with his mates. All of them were about Cliff’s age and seemed cut from the same cloth.
I squared my shoulders and got into character.
With Cliff there’s a certain way deals are done, subtle social nuances that must be played out. I knew I had to apologise for the late payment, but I also had to do it in a way that played up to his ego (especially now that there was an audience)
‘Cliff! I just saw bloody Chris, told me he hadn’t paid the friggin bill, so I gave him a big slap on the wrist! What a dickhead!'
Cliff’s long grey haired friend lent in to contribute his 2 cents worth (he had helped with the bike servicing and was getting a cut of the profits) ‘Shoulda given him a slap on the forehead!!’
Much laughter ensued.
Cliff brushed off my apology and as we continued to chat I slipped him the money, which he put away without counting to show that he still trusted me. As wound up our transaction he suddenly remembered ‘Oh and I hear that Chris’ caught you, wearing a ring now are you?!’
‘Of course Cliff – he couldn’t let a beauty like me slip away! Who else would pay the bills?’
More laughter followed by raised beers to the happy couple.
I expected some zingers to follow, referring to ball and chains, or any other joyful wedded stereotypes.
Cliff started out –
‘Now Mary, my father once told me about marriage’
The blokes and I waited on baited breath for the joke
‘He said start out the way you want to finish’
I lent in waiting for the next line, but that was it. I looked around - everyone was very serious. A short fellow held his beer up and called out ‘unconditional love and respect’.
What?
I thanked them, said goodbye and walked away a little confused, where had this come from? What was with all the respect and love? Where was the sexism?
On further pondering I’ve realised that back in Cliff’s day that is what you did when a young couple got engaged. Those who were older and wiser (and had already been though the wars) would offer advice on maintaining a happy relationship. Courtships were also shorter, so relationship advice was more relevant - especially as most people wouldn’t have lived together first.
The majority of my parental figures (I have lots that fit into that category. Refer to my first blog entry for scandalous revelations) aren’t married, and although many are in long term relationships, and many more give me relationship advice (and listen to me whine) no one would think that because I’m now engaged they needed to sit down and give me a ‘talk’ about how to maintain a happy relationship. But do you know what? It was nice.
I often feel like I’m justifying getting married, it isn’t seen as a necessity or the institution it once was. I find myself trying to explain why we are doing it and defending our choice against scepticism (ps nice one Kim Kardashian for fucking it up for the rest of us). It was actually really sweet to have a group of relative strangers simply accept our decision and give beautiful advice.
What better goal than beginning and continuing with unconditional love? And slapping your partners’ forehead when actually it was both of your faults that a bill was paid late?
Thanks Cliff, thanks surrounding gentlemen, every one of you is a friggin legend and you dickheads made my bloody day.
