Preparing For Marriage

Posted: January 5, 2015 in One More For Love, Springing Into Life

 

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It is October. And I am sat in my engagement room. My interim room (or ‘interoom’). In less than six months I’ll be sharing a room. I’ll be sharing a bed! I am excited. Because I’ll also be sharing the rent.

But crucially, because I’ll be a married man.

Married men are sleek. Cool. They can afford to buy a drink in a coffee shop. They wear clothes of non-black colour! Without logos! They’re classy, and soon, that will be me.

Classy Dan.

Clan?

Dassy?

DAN POWER!!!!!!

I decide to zoom my powerful danliness in on my imminent marital responsibility. I am a fiancé. Which is probably French for ‘pretty classy, but he’s still Dan’. I decide to do it. I press send.

 —

“Do you want me to come with you, Dan?”

“Yeah!”

“Where is it again?”

“In a hotel in Birmingham.”

I have worked in hotels before. Chatting in a Novotel to happy people about to sue. By which I don’t mean become the embodiment of Sue. And you can pick which Sue I mean. Except Sue Storm, because for all you know she’s watching.

“Which?”

I re-read the email.

“Erm. The Hyatt.”

Beauty splutters.

“Dan, the Hyatt?”

“Yeah, it’s down the road from the Novotel.”

“Yeah, but… you know it’s… not… the Novotel.”

“Of course I do!”

It’s probably pretty much the same as the Novotel. Nice and classy. Even classier than a Travelodge.

“Well, OK, Dan.”

“It’s pretty classy there, right? Seems about right for meeting an international tailoring agency.”

I have decided to wear a groom’s suit that makes me feel and look like the star of the show. If Beauty’s wearing an expensive white dress, then why can’t I?

Definitely classy.

DAN POWER!!!!!!!

Mr Raja sends me my confirmation, and we are on our way to Birmingham. I am taking some cash out of my ‘catching the bus’ budget envelope when Beauty calls, and asks how we’re getting there. I am classy, and am not catching the bus today!

“I’m gonna take us… on the train!”

I smile a hopeful smile, but all it does is make my scraggly beard face scratch the mouthpiece and irritate Beauty’s ear a little.

“Well, I had an idea, Dan….”

I am a gracious fiancé. I listen to my fiancée’s ideas. Even though she’s never going to be a husband, her ideas are pretty classy too. I mean, for a woman.

“Why don’t we… drive?”

I am stunned.

Drive?

To Birmingham? I have never done such a thing! Not with my own two hands! And feet. And eyes. Observation is key to driving safety. Hang on… driving… in our own car! It’s like we’re already married! I’ve seen Big Boots driving his wife! And My Brother! This is a husband’s job! His obligation! His marital duty! It must be classy!

“I’ll do it!”

Beauty picks me up and lets me set a course for Birmingham. I engage, and the fuel thrusters send us into warp 1. Which is what I call 1st gear. Soon, we are into warp 2, via a complicated system of putting the clutch down, moving the warp stick,  and removing the clutch whilst simultaneously hitting the warp gas. In 45 minutes we are in Birmingham, and I am looking for somewhere to park. My Brother is married, and used to pick me up at The Norms after work. I decide to park there, once I’ve navigated Five Ways.

Five Ways.

The most terrifying Everest every West Midlands-based learner must climb. But I am ready. I am psyched up. I am a complete psycho. I see Five Ways and approach. And stop. And am in gridlock.

Oh no!

 –

It is 45 infuriating minutes later and I have successfully survived Five Ways, discovered you’re not allowed to park at The Norms and spent 45 minutes reversing into a space. But everything’s fine. Because we’re surrounded by cars. Privately owned cars! Not a bus in sight! This is so classy!

We meander over to the Hyatt and step inside.

Oh.

It’s nothing like the Novotel. There is no carpet anywhere! The floors are made out of shiny velvet rock and the staff all glisten. I am sensually shell-shocked, so head straight to the lifts, where I am told Mr Raja is waiting. On the 23rd floor.

It hurts! The lift hurts my brain!

The door opens and I take a moment to admire the breathtaking view of old industrial buildings covered in grey clouds and pelting rain. Oh. I stop admiring it, and find suite 2303. Presumably, this is the business centre, and it’s a business suite. Which means it’ll have a table, and possibly a projector instead of an OHP. And they’ll glisten.

“Hello sir.”

I turn to see a short Indian man in a Frasier-looking suit. It’s probably made of dogs. Live dogs. I sigh, as I realise that I am in my trainers.

“Follow me.”

I follow him, into a large room. A very large room, with a table, and a monitor. Tsk. Not even an OHP. Hang on, it’s a TV monitor! 1000 inches wide! Gareth Southgate’s head looks unusually valuable! Mr Raja starts saying things I don’t understand, like ‘kashmir’ and the way you make an expensive suit out of dogs. I suddenly notice the chandelier I’m about to smack my head off. It’s designer. A designer chandelier! Oh gosh. I decide to take off my shoes so I don’t dirty the carpet.

“Well sir, we start at £600 for a white suit.”

Oh no! I immediately know I’ve made a mistake! I have flown a man from India to come and stay in a palace so I can appear before him in a camo baseball cap and trainers with mouths. If I don’t buy something he might Sue me.

Beauty takes over, distracting him from my Sports Direct umbrella, and the water dripping onto his Kashmiri Labrador carpet. Beauty says we will go away and think about it, and we get the heck out of there, and carry on walking through town.

“I’m sorry, love. I wanted to be classy for you.”

Beauty smiles.

“It’s OK Dan, I love you anyway.”

I smile.

“So where shall we have some dinner?”

“I saw this amazing looking place the once! Can we see if it’s still there?”

Beauty smiles, and we stroll to New Street where I see a wonderful sign.

‘£5 all you can eat buffet’.

Beauty smiles at me.

“You classy boy.”

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Comments
  1. William says:

    Happy new year, you classy boy! Congratulations!

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