Wednesday, 13 July 2011

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid...

...which wasn't "I love you" .  That would have been better than what I actually did say.  And now I don't know how to make it better.

Let me give you some background.  Future husband was quite close to his grandparents on his mother's side.  Not his father's though - they're not even invited to the wedding.

Yesterday, I was in a mood.  It started with me making the simple request, that as I was off to zumba in 30 minutes, would future husband mind making the pasta so I could eat before I went.  Somewhere this got lost in translation to boyspeak because, when I came downstairs after getting changed into my gym clothes, I was not greeted by a pot of bubbling pasta, or a plate of yuminess.  Future husband was in fact, in the garden fiddling with the lawnmower, leaving me with 20 minutes to cook and eat some pasta.

I headed off to zumba only to find that the class had been cancelled.  When I got home future husband was reading on the sofa.  I can't actually get him to get his nose out of the "Song of Ice and Fire" books and he wont bugger off upstairs and read them, so I can have some me time, perhaps to do wii zumba.  Anyway, anything I said to him met with a grunt.   This got me in more of a grump because I'd spent the previous evening emailing wwe superstars in the hope that one might send a word of congratulations.  This is a surprise for future husband, so he wasn't to know, but it didn't help matters.

What also didn't help matters is that sometime through the night he got a text and responded to it immediately.  So future wife and possible mother of his children = grunts and not listening.  Text = immediate reading and response.  This kind of lit the fire under my annoyance and turned it into anger, made worse when I found out it was one of his female friends texting.  Normally, it wouldn't bother me, but because of all the other stuff, I don't think I would have cared if it was his most butch friend rather than the female friend that he openly admits he thinks is gorgeous (she is too, the bitch - she doesnt have to go to the gym in a desperate last ditch attempt to not look like a dinner lady in a wedding dress). 

Anyway, I took a deep breath and managed to keep a lid on it.  Then I made the mistake of asking about the final 3 table names.  We'd planned to call the tables after personal things to us, like the name of the pub we had our first date in, and the name of the first film we saw together (sorry to those on the slumdog millionnaire table by the way).  We're 3 short.   Anyone who has read my previous posts knows of the folly of trying to get any kind of sensible answer from my fiance, so after 20 repetitions of the question and 20 stupid fecking answers (no, I am not calling a table at my wedding Fiesta, because we once had sex in one you moron!).  Anyway, (to finally link the second para), he suggested calling a table after his grandad.  Now, I'm not keen on the idea.  I'm not overly sentimental and I'm not overly enthralled with people sobbing over dead people I never even met at my wedding, but it means a lot to him so if that's what he wants, we'll have a table named for his grandad.  In fact, I've even arranged for his mum to find a photo of his grandparents to put in a keychain locket for him so they can be with him on his wedding day (Another surprise)  Now, instead of expressing it as I did above, which might still have been harsh, I put it even more harshly.  Now, please remember I was mad at him, tired, hormonal and fed up.  So instead of "Ok" which is what I should have said, what actually came out was "No, that's nothing to do with me!". 

Open mouth, remove foot.

I went to bed soon after and he stayed up to read his feckin book so I'm not sure he's forgiven me yet.  Hellllp!!!

Days until the wedding:  60
Level of madness: less than yesterday. 

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