How We Met - Part 3 of 3

So we were secretly engaged. How exciting!

Mom did her best to make sure I knew how against him she was. She knew she couldn't just order me to break up with him as she'd done years before, but she could certainly make it known he was unwelcome. And that she did. He was deliberately not invited to family gatherings and occasions. She specifically told me he couldn't come to my birthday dinner the next year, because it was just for family. I started coming home later and later. We fought a lot about my curfew. That's right. My curfew.

Honestly, I worked a part-time job all year, 2 jobs in the summer. I had good grades. I took care of routine maintenance on the car like oil changes and wiper blades. I didn't ask for gas money. I paid for my own phone line. I didn't see how I was doing anything so horribly wrong. On the grand scale of girls gone bad, I was pretty tame. And since my sister was nothing like tame,I really though she should be a bit more forgiving. Mom had also displayed really bad judgment with some of my previous boyfriends, so I was hardly going to let her choose for me.

In the summer of 1992, I took a 6-week immersion course at Laval University near Quebec City. Incidentally, that was the coldest. summer. ever. I've never worn a winter jacket in July before. Anyway, so we were apart for 6 weeks. I called him every night, collect from the communal payphone. The only problem with that was that G doesn't speak French and this course required you to only ever speak French. If you got caught speaking English, you could get tossed out of the program. (Technically, you got tossed for not speaking French, but nobody hassled the Mexican girls for speaking Spanish, so I have to assume it was just an opportunity to harass the damned Anglos. I keed. Mostly.) Not that the security guard who patrolled the halls of the all-girls residence would have ratted me out, but she did shake her head and waggle her finger at me once or twice and I tried not to upset her.

At one point during these 6 weeks, my sister decided she needed medical attention.

[bitterness] So how does she get to the doctor? Bus? A cab? One of her own numerous friends? No. My boyfriend. She calls my boyfriend to come drive her to the doctor while I was 9 hours away. Then, she needed "someone to talk to", so they spent the day together. They had a nice time. G mentioned it to me on the phone that night. He was happy that he could help out someone in my family. Bless his trusting little heart.

Suspicions aren't proof, but I still think it looks pretty bad for her, especially given that she didn't like anyone to have something if she didn't. He says she never flirted with him, but I notice that she never asked him for any more favours after he didn't hit on her that, or asked me to ask him. [/bitterness]

Moving right along.

He drove to QC at the end of the program and he and I and a friend of mine who had done the program with me all went to Ottawa for the weekend. (Don't tell Mom.)

The following year, we went to QC for the very first Medieval Festival (don't tell Mom) and met up with my friend, who was doing the program again. That was a fun week.

Stepping back for a minute to December 1992: I was in the middle of my 3rd year of a 4-year program (Honours Modern Languages and Linguistics, in case you didn' t know). G proposed to me again. I remember sitting on the couch in the townhouse he now shared with his mother, her second husband and the husband's adult son. It was empty except for us. The Christmas tree lights were the only ones on in the whole house. It gave everything a soft glow. He knelt in front of me and asked again. I said yes. He told me how he'd gone to the trouble of asking my father first this time, since Mom had complained that he didn't do that before. The next day, he and I stood in front of my parents and made our announcement, asked for their blessing and set the timeframe for June 1994, the month after I would graduate (all of which Mom had said were things that were wrong the first time). They both got all teary-eyed, but consented. They did grill me later when I was by myself about a whole bunch of things. *shiver*

We began to save money. I saved all my tip money in a separate account that was supposed to fund our honeymoon. My mother took me aside one day and said that her mother hadn't helped her plan her wedding and she wasn't going to do that to me. I was relieved. But not for long. It seems that Mom just wanted to say no to stuff. She didn't want half the people on my guest list ( Most of those were friends of hers and they found out about it and crashed the church anyway.) She didn't have any suggestions about the hall or anything else for that matter, so I gave up and we did it ourselves. Add to that that when I asked for money, she told me that Dad had already bought me a car to replace the dead Parisienne and that my youngest sister was taking horseback riding lessons and they just couldn't give me any. She also told me not to bother Dad. I figured Dad didn't know that Mom was refusing me financial help, and I didn't want to catch him in the middle, so I didn't ask.

September rolled around and I couldn't get money for tuition either, so I had to use the honeymoon fund. G made up the rest. Middle Sister and I were back on speaking terms. I forget who wasn't talking to her at that point, actually. She can be difficult, but after she left the house, I couldn't complain about her raiding my room or my purse anymore, so we put that mostly behind us. Anyway, she sews very well, so she made my dress and the bridesmaids' dresses. At some point, Mom took me and my sisters (who were my bridesmaids) to buy shoes. She also bought G and me a couple sets of sheets. None of the wedding party had any money, so in addition to paying for the reception, we also paid for things that others usually help with, like tuxes and the material for the dresses.

We found an apartment and bought furniture, since he got a discount at the place he worked. We took possession the 1st of June, but neither of us moved in. G's mother had gone all weepy when he suggested it and when I'd asked my father, he looked like he would cry. I didn't bother talking to Mom, obviously.

Then we got married on the 11th. It really wasn't the wedding of either of our dreams. Frankly, we should just have taken the little money that we had and gone to Bermuda. We had a ceremony and a reception, but no decorations to speak of. The friend who took the French course with me played the piano. The processional was Canon in D, by Pachelbel. My cousin's boyfriend took all the pictures.

It was a mostly nice day. I liked all the cars slowing down to get a look at me. *grin* G looked sharp in his tux. His family were all smiling. My father was emotional. Dad doesn't get emotional.

And my mother scowled. My aunts and uncles still shake their heads and tell me how dreadfully they thought she behaved. *grin*

Anyway.

The next week was wedded bliss. We hadn't been able to afford a honeymoon, but we didn't want to go anywhere anyway. We stayed at home and put stuff where we wanted, organised and had sex all over. It was a whole fresh new life for us.

We'll have been married for 12 years in June. It's been good.

*****

That was fun, wasn't it? Thanks so much to Bob and Boo for starting this!