amazing thing happened this week. J took a real interest in his own wedding. Not just a “yeah, whatever” but a fully-fledged interest.
Wow, wonders never cease, right?
Back at the start, while we were both still basking in the rosy glow of just “being engaged”, J happily told me he would leave me to plan everything with his mum, and he would just turn up on the day.
I laughed with him at the time, though I knew there was a small part of him (or perhaps not so small) that would be overjoyed if he could actually do that.
In many ways it would be the perfect arrangement. I love researching stuff, making lists and finding the best possible option. If my calendar is full of scheduled things I am a happy woman.
J, on the other hand does not share my views. In fact, the only arguments we ever seem to have arise because I want to plan every second of our lives and he wants to just go with the flow.
Perhaps that’s the biggest cultural difference between us. Or maybe it’s because I’m an anally retentive weirdo.
Either way, it soon became clear that largely, I’d be left to my own devices with a lot of the finer details of our wedding. And it’s what I was expecting really. Do I really want to be marrying the kind of man who frets about the colour of tablecloths or the font we use on the wedding invitations?
Indeed, friends on both sides – and Linda even – said it was for the best. “This way, we can do exactly what we want,” she told me with a conspiratory grin.
She went on to tell me about a friend’s son-in-law who turned into groom-zilla and got fussy and picky about everything – including the flowers! – making it a nightmare for everyone. I certainly don’t want that.
“What are you moaning for?” a Spanish friend Chucho asked me. “He did his part, didn’t he? He asked you. Now it’s your turn.”
And so it went, and I didn’t really mind. But then about two weeks ago, things got to me. I was worried about the paperwork, I couldn’t find a dress and all the photographers I liked were taken. I was really stressed out for the first time, and as I sat there, manically searching wedding sites with my head in my hands, J noticed me.
“You look really stressed out,” he said. “Relax, you’re supposed to enjoy planning your wedding.”
Why wasn’t he stressed out too? Why was he talking to me like he was an outside observer? It was all wrong.
But all of a sudden, things began to change. First, he took charge of sorting out the hotel accommodation for the guests that want to stay overnight in Cabanillas del Monte. Then he decided he wants to come and help pick the food we’re going to have.
And just last night we were sitting together having what was sort of our first ‘wedding planning meeting’ (but don’t tell him I called it that!) He had printed out documents, stapled them together and even put them in a plastic folder.
Right in front of my eyes he phoned the caterer and the priest to arrange meetings and went through a load of videos of possible musicians we could have play at the ceremony, even getting enthusiastic about one we saw.
“I’ll email them tomorrow,” he said. “And I’ll call the guy who supplied the DJ equipment for my sister’s wedding and see if he can help us.”
Wow. Was I going to wake up any moment and realise it had all been a dream? Amazingly no. It was for real.
“At the start I was like ‘I don’t want to know anything…,” he told me by way of explanation. “But this is my wedding too. I want to be involved.”
So there you have it. I’m thrilled about J’s change of heart. And more than happy to hand over the reins. I won’t be letting go of them completely though.