2003-12-01

Ahhh, the crowds have departed, the last song has been played and all the decorations packed neatly into boxes for transport to a spider-encrusted shed somewhere until the next big event. I'm married.

From all reports everyone had a good time. I didn't. I was busy and rushed and didn't eat or drink any of the fabulous and exotic and bloody expensive goods I had purchased. But then it wasn't about me, was it? It was about an idea, an "us", and I should just be grateful that my father didn't punch my brother in the head and that my mother's obnoxious partner got drunk early and made her drive him back to the hotel to sleep it off.

I am so incredibly glad it is all over (the actual wedding that is). But then maybe it is all over for me. I also managed to turn thirty last Friday and hey, now kids and a mortgage beckon and jesus henry joseph when did my tits start sagging so much? But ha! I have a man and I don't need to worry anymore, do I...?

Yes I do. I want men to look at me and have lascivious thoughts. I want them to see my mouth and picture how good it would look wrapped around their big fat cock, and I want them to know that they can't have it and it makes it all the sweeter for just being fantasy. Because maybe they can have it, maybe I'll give in, maybe the night will be right and she'll be drunk enough to succumb. And then we can all walk away, she back to her dearly beloved and he back to his big busy life filled with instant messages and toasted cheese sandwiches. And we can forget that the only reason men and women hang out anywhere near each other is because the urge to merge, to put things inside one another, to create smells and sweat and ecstasy, is so damn overpowering.

But I'm married now, and the only person making toasted cheese sandwiches is me. For myself, mind. I've stated that i do not fill the little wifey role, and we're clear on that. Phew, Germaine Greer can rest easy knowing that i have asserted my right not to be a kitchen whore.

The prezzies were good. I console myself with consumables.

bitch - moan