Scenes from a Metropolitan marriage

scenes from a marriage

Pillow talk: Met Mum, immersed in a magazine. Big M, immersed in pillows, insistently staring. Rumbling. Harrumphing. “So. Do you know that the day we’ve met is near?”

“Hmm-hmm.” I don’t dare to look up. There is a slight chance for me to finish reading that article.

“Do you know the exact day?”

“Sure.” I feel the chance fading away slowly.

“So which day is it then?”

“Hold on. Shouldn’t it be me who is asking those girlie questions? 02 February 2007. We met on the 2nd day in February.” Nose back into the magazine.

“Nooooooo. It’s so not. That’s the day we got together.”

“Oh. So you mean January 29 then? Our first date?” Bye bye, magazine!

“No. I. Mean. The. Day. We. Met.” He is clearly enjoying this.

I am puzzled. The day we met. The day we met? Damn it, where is 2007’s Filofax?

“It’s the 26th!” He IS enjoying this.

“Do we really have to have this conversation now?” A desperate attempt to distract him from the fact that I should have known that date, as it was the day he proposed to me exactly a year later.

“Yes, we do.” He is grinning broadly. How mean!

I pull the wild card. “I am going to blog about it, if we are not going to end this conversation right now.” I am so smart.

“Like what? Like you are going to write that you forgot our wedding anniversary, too?”


Picture credit: The Guardian Film Gallery


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