(I’m perfectly aware that most of the people who read this blog are single, nevertheless, what I’m, uh, sharing, might give you something to think about.)
V and I, we started out with the idea that we would get married. That’s a huge shift from the previous relationship where I hoped it would – one day – end in marriage. It’s not even as if we were particularly good friends in the years we knew each other prior to the decision to get hitched. We knew each other a little vaguely, and liked what we knew, but that was really all. But during a fit of depression, when I was doing fairly random things to distract myself, I ended up hanging out quite a bit with his gang. I wanted a change from the usual people I spent time with, and so ended up seeing a lot of his life.
That’s where it all began, I suppose. Even when he did indicate that he was, what’s the word, épris, in this direction, I took it none too seriously for a while. But I was very lonely at that point in my life, and I began thinking, what was so bad about getting married to him? I know, it sounds pretty insane put like that, but by then I did know enough about him to consider marriage as an option, certainly as much as I could ever hope to know of any prospective groom before an arranged marriage. So I thought it over, rather cold-bloodedly, I’m afraid, and weighed mutual tastes, and points of dissension and things like that. In the end, his unwillingness to be shaken off carried the day. It’s always nice to have a faithful admirer to call you in the midnight blues, or be ordered to take you places, or you know, be a general factotum. And the darn man did it so well, it felt like I was on to a good thing.
The only condition I made was that our families had to approve. I had had enough to trying to make relationships work that my family had problems with; but I did believe I was playing with loaded dice all the same, because this time, I had considered what the family wanted as well as what appealed to me.
(Not only did they approve, but our castes and sub-castes and stuff like that ended up matching – if I’d ever known there was any danger of that I’d probably have never had anything to do with him. A girl’s got some principles.)
Now why did I get into all this detail? Apart from the pleasure of reliving the good old days when my word really was law? Well, it was all about the ideas of friends getting married, and marriage as a means out of loneliness. V and I, we’re proof that neither is totally a bad idea -- so long as you don't think just getting married will solve all your problems.
To me, the loneliness was really a strong enough factor. I wouldn’t have married just about anybody, but yes, it made me consider a person who I may have overlooked otherwise, simply because I didn’t know enough about him. To him, the years of knowing me, first and second-hand, probably gave him the confidence to follow up on an attraction he might have ignored otherwise. I’m guessing of course. But when I think of all the ridiculous reasons why people get married, I like to think ours weren’t entirely daft.
But the real reason why I wrote this post was to reassure some friends of mine, with whom I’d had similar conversations earlier: it doesn’t matter so much where you start out, the moonlight-and-roses can always find a place in later.