Tuesday, 10 July 2012


I sit in the darkness, typing, near midnight. The Argentines sleep around me. Do they ponder, as I ponder, the how, the how, the how?

How can two people truly spend their lives together and still love each other until death do us part? Are we really animals of lifelong monogamy, or as usual are we being blinded into these things? In the green corner we have the condors, squawking away about the bliss of mating for life. Sharing a nest, a view, the upbringing of chicks, is unique and wonderful, they claim. Together you make some thing, grow something and make it fly, they say. It's special. And there's always someone there, warming the nest for when you return.

It's interesting that many animals that do mate for life are birds. I mean, they have more freedom than most, being able to fly away whenever they want and not come back. And yet they do.

In the red corner we have the elephants. No one hardly ever messes with them (except those human bastards) and they do OK. They get it done, with hard work and patience. Their time spent in pairs is sporadic, yet with purpose. I applaud that. It reminds of being at university.

With two weeks to go until 'I do' why am I dreaming about all my ex crushes, boyfriends, trysts and lovers? During the night my mind is somehow dealing with my upcoming nuptials in a way that during the day doesn't even occur to me. How many lines must be drawn? People I haven't even thought about for years pop up and must be buried in the sand. That's fine, I don't want to build a castle for them. But the more this goes on, the closer it gets, the more every breath with the word marriage strikes me across the chest and my heart stops beating a second longer.

It stops beating because I love him, adore him, am in love with him. It stops beating because I've never done anything so enormous with anyone else. It stops beating because this is the most serious thing I'm ever going to do. It stops beating because there was me and him and now, always, there will be us.

And then I breathe again. Another second passes and I am still me. And I can still fly.

So I do.