I have been married for 6 weeks. So far it’s alright, I mean, sure it’s a drag, what with all the bills bills bills, and yes dear, no dear, and no relief except for one night a week playing touch football with the guys, or having a quick drink after work, and having to leave amid the jeers and catcalls as everybody orders another round.
But the stability of marriage: the comfort of the familiar warm body in bed, planning your life with a beautiful woman who has hardly aged since you met, except more prone (free?) to criticize, the looks and silences that can say so much, sometimes good, sometimes not, but comfortable and understood. Is romance gone? No, the romance lives on but with a different context, that of ‘weddedness’ – but still surprises and smiles and unexpected kisses make gray mornings a softer shade.
The holiday is coming. Sundappled, sundrenched, seabreeze and seafood, rental car and roadmaps. Honeymoon comes from two ancient Latin words: honey and moon. Honey is what you drizzle onto something to make it sweeter, and moon is the big pizza pie in the sky. That’s amore.
