• A binder full of wishes prepares the path to a wedding bachelor is wary of
Diary,
I’ve never been a proper member of a wedding committee. It would be mean. Like inviting a vegan to a BBQ. Even at my friend Enoch’s wedding, I played a nominal role just to save face. Suffice to say, I know little about preparing for a bachelor’s doomsday.
Luckily, I’m marrying an American who has no use for such things as wedding committees. Actually, I was surprised – read that shocked – to learn that Harper has everything under control.
As soon as she accepted the engagement ring, she produced a binder as large as an encyclopaedia. It’s labelled “My Beautiful Wedding” and in it, in eerily pink hues, is everything from the design of the dress, the colour scheme of the cake, bridal dresses, the songs to be played, the cuisine, half the guest list… You think of it, it’s covered.
“When did you make this?” I asked, eyes wide as saucers. “We’ve only been engaged for one day.”
“Oh, this?” A cynical smile. “I’ve had it for some time.”
“You mean you started working on it even before you knew we’d get married?”
“Well, sort of. I’ve had since I was 16.”
“Hold on. You mean you’ve been preparing to get married since you were a teenager?”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid. I’ve been thinking about my marriage since I was nine. I only began working on the binder when I turned 16.”
“Why 16?”
“That’s the lowest age of consent in my country.” She looked me in the eye and added: “You never know when Mr Right might come your way.”
Even gazing upon her beautiful face with the radiant smile, I have to admit I began getting a little scared. As it turns out, I hadn’t seen nothing yet.
After dinner the other day, Harper sat across from me so close that our knees touched. She took my hands in hers and again looked me in the eyes and said, “Honey, I’ve come to love you like I’ve never loved anyone else in my life. Apart from my daughter, of course. I want our wedding to be perfect. And it will be just as long as we carry out everything in my binder to perfection.”
“Don’t I have any say on anything?”
Smiling, she pats my cheek. “Nice try, honey. It’s my wedding day. All you have to do is look handsome in your violet and orchid tuxedo and everything will be fine. But just so you know, if you mess this up for me in any way, I’ll kill you.”
At first, I didn’t believe I heard her right. Then it hit me and I gawked. “What did you say?”
She pecks me on the lips. “I’m only kidding, honey.”
Somehow, I don’t think she was kidding, and now I’m walking on eggshells.