by Matt Dunn
‘But you wouldn’t mind if one day I did happen to, you know, ask her out? If all this find-me-a-bride stuff doesn’t come to anything, of course.’
‘It’s a free country,’ says Ash. ‘Although I warn you – she’ll eat you alive.’
But as I leave Ash to watch the rest of the match in peace, I start to think that might not be such a bad way to go.
Chapter 12
Nothing much happens for the next few days. I don’t hear anything from my mum and dad, so I assume they’re ‘getting on with it’, whatever ‘it’ is, and besides I’m not expecting immediate results. I’ve got a couple of commissions to be getting on with anyway, which keeps me busy, and keeps my mind off what they might be up to as well. I’m still way too embarrassed to even think about going to talk to Seema after our earlier encounter, and in fact keep completely away from the High Street to minimize my chances of bumping into her. As attractive as she is, I don’t want my parents to be going to all this trouble for nothing, and besides there’s a part of me that’s intrigued to see what they come up with.
But one of the things Ash’s parents did say I needed to start doing, and the earlier the better, was put the word around, which is what I do. Although I’m guessing they didn’t mean telling the likes of Terry what I’m up to when I get to my art class this evening. And especially when there’s still ten minutes to go before the others are due to arrive.
‘Smile,’ he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pointing the camera at me.
‘What’s that for?’
‘It’s a “before” picture,’ smirks Terry. ‘Because you certainly won’t be smiling once some woman’s got her claws into you. Besides, you’re not ready to get married.’
‘What do you mean?’ I say, more than a little hurt.
‘Financially, for one thing.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You need to wait until you’ve got at least two houses.’
‘But women aren’t that materialistic. At least, not the kind of women I want to meet.’
‘I’m not talking about meeting them,’ says Terry, staring at me earnestly from behind his easel. ‘But you’ll need the two houses for when you get divorced. That way, you won’t be homeless when you have to hand over one of them.’
I laugh, but then stop suddenly, as it’s clear Terry’s not joking. ‘Anyone ever told you you’re a little bit cynical?’
Terry shakes his head. ‘I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. Mug’s game, marriage. And it’s the same the whole world over.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say, recalling something I’d watched on the Discovery channel the other day. ‘In fact, in certain Polynesian societies they even have more than one wife. Why would they do that if it was so bad?’
‘At the same time?’ Terry looks horrified. ‘Nah, Ben, when it comes to marriage, I’m of the Oscar Wilde school of thought.’
‘Which is?’ I have to ask, when Terry doesn’t answer.
‘You know – something along the lines of bigamy being one wife too many, and marriage being the same thing.’
‘Yes, but he was, I mean . . .’ I stop talking, not really wanting to be caught debating the merits of Oscar Wilde’s sexuality with Terry in case Lizzie suddenly walks in. ‘Wrong.’
Terry sniffs. ‘Not at all. Realistic, more like.’
‘It can’t be that bad?’
He nods. ‘Trust me – as someone who’s tried it twice, oh yes it is. You wait until you run out of excuses not to marry them, rather than leaping into it like you’re doing.’
‘But ... I want a wife.’
Terry shakes his head slowly. ‘We all want a wife, Benny boy. It’s what they turn into – and bring with them – that we don’t bargain for. Because before you know it, you’re saddled with a family and a life that you didn’t bargain for, and the minute you object, she takes them with her, plus your house, your car, and half your money . . .’ He pauses for breath. ‘And you tell me how that’s fair?’
‘But . . .’ I stop talking myself, because how do I explain that surely that’s part of the bargain? ‘Having the family comes with the territory, doesn’t it? You know that if a woman agrees to marry you, then by way of compensation, she’s going to want to have kids. And therefore it’s the price you pay for getting that commitment out of her in the first place.’
‘Yeah, but just you wait till she starts producing. Then you either do exactly as she says, or she’s off. I’ll tell you,’ continues Terry, ‘there should be some insurance against it.’
‘There is. They’re called condoms.’
‘No. I mean the whole divorce thing. Look at me now – assuming I ever manage to meet another woman who I’d even contemplate spending the rest of my life with, would I ever get married again? No way!’
‘Really?’ I’d always thought Terry and his wives were blissfully happy. Up until they divorced him, that is.
‘I just couldn’t afford it, financially or emotionally. Nah, the way I see it, marriage is a concept invented by lawyers as a way of earning extra money. Nothing else.’
‘That’s rubbish.’
‘Not at all,’ says Terry. ‘Look at all these same-sex marriages nowadays. Who’s the happiest about it all? Not the gay couples themselves, but the lawyers, because they know that give it a couple of years, there’ll be a whole new set of customers banging on their doors.’ He shakes his head. ‘Like I say, mug’s game. Whatever team you play for.’
‘I’m sorry, Terry. But I’m determined to go through with it.’
‘Well, at least get yourself a satnav first.’
‘A satnav?’
He nods. ‘It’ll give you some idea of what marriage is like – a woman’s voice telling you where to go and what to do all the time.’
‘Very funny, Terry,’ I say sarcastically, although I can’t hide my smile. ‘But it is what I want.’
Terry sighs. ‘Well, in that case, may divorce be with you. But do you want some advice?’
I don’t want to offend him by saying ‘no’. ‘Go on, then.’
He leans in towards me and lowers his voice conspiratorially. ‘You know the secret to a long and happy marriage?’
I shrug. ‘Tell me.’
‘Have a short and unhappy one first.’
I look at him in horror. ‘What?’
‘I’m serious. Think of it like school.’
‘Like school?’
‘You show up for a few years, learn something, then it’s time to leave.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘They’re called “starter marriages”. You know, like a starter home. Sort of gets you on the marriage ladder. Although the irony is, you end up losing your actual home. But it’s a small price to pay, in the long run.’
‘Huh?’
Terry beckons for me to sit down. ‘You know when you buy your first place, it’s a means to an end, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not planning to live there for the rest of your life, are you? But it teaches you how to go about the buying process, all about DIY, and more importantly, what to avoid when you buy your next one.’
I look at him incredulously. ‘So, you’re saying I should just marry any old person, wait for it to go wrong, and then learn from my mistakes?’
Terry nods sagely. ‘And you won’t have to wait long, because whoever you marry, it just will. In fact, everything you do will be so wrong, you’ll actually think you’re doing it on purpose.’
‘But . . . that’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ Terry sighs. ‘Look at the marriage statistics. Divorces are one in two, right. And at the same time, your second marriage is likely, on average, to last twice as long as your first – even though at the time your first will feel like it’s never going to end. Proves my point.’
‘That’s not going to be me, though, Terry. I mean, I’ve had enough relationships to be able to tell, surely.’
He laughs. For quite a while. ‘Afraid not, B
en. Because marriage – that’s a different thing entirely. And sadly the only way to experience it is to actually go through with it. I mean, I’m not a bad person, am I?’
I look him up and down. ‘I suppose not.’
‘Thanks. But to talk to either of my ex-wives, you’d think I was the devil incarnate. Because that’s what marriage does to people. Makes them lose all sense of perspective. I tell you, forget their birthday once, call ’em by the wrong name in bed, or even sleep with their best friend, and they rank it as a crime up there with murder.’
‘Surely that’s not true.’
‘Trust me,’ says Terry. ‘Or let me put it another way. If you went for a job, and someone said there was a fifty–fifty chance of you getting sacked within a couple of years, and you’d have to pay out a lot of money when you left, would you take it?’
‘That would depend on the job.’
‘Okay. Say you were buying a house,’ says Terry, evidently warming to his task, ‘and you knew there was an equal chance of it falling down. Would you still go ahead with it, knowing how expensive it’s going to be?’
‘Well, probably not,’ I say, glancing at the slow-moving clock on the wall, and starting to feel a little depressed.
‘And that’s my point,’ says Terry triumphantly. ‘It’s exactly the same with marriage. And yet, everyone always goes into it all starry-eyed, thinking “I’m not going to fail” or “we’ll be different”, and of course they’re more often than not wrong. Because it’s an inevitability.’
‘But surely the only way to go into it is with starry-eyed optimism, because what’s the alternative? Start off thinking it’s going to go wrong, and then not being surprised when that happens?’
‘Why not?’ says Terry. ‘That way, you’re not going to end up disappointed, are you?’
‘But that doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Nor does marriage,’ says Terry. ‘Given those odds.’
‘But that’s why a proposal of marriage is such a big deal, isn’t it? Because it’s a statement from you saying “Hey, I know it’s tough out there, and that marriage is tricky, but I really think that you and me can make a go of it”. And in a way, the worse the statistics are, the bigger a compliment it is, because you’re saying to someone “I know it’s bad, but I want to give it a go. With you. Together we can make our way through this minefield.”’
‘Yeah, but men and women see it differently, don’t they?’
My head is starting to hurt. ‘Do they?’
‘Of course they do,’ says Terry, patiently. ‘We propose, thinking we’re doing the woman a favour. You know, of all the women I’m beating off with a shitty stick, you’re the one I want to make a commitment to, blah blah blah. But they in fact see it more rationally. Can this person support me while I do what I’m biologically programmed to do, and if so, am I prepared to keep letting them have sex with me in return? It starts out as a trade-off, but what actually happens is that we end up doing all the compromising, and yet they make us feel like they are. And that’s hardly a win–win situation, is it?’
I put my head in my hands. ‘Are you trying to put me off?’
Terry grins. ‘Not at all. I love a good wedding, me. Just not my own. I simply want to make sure you’re going into this with your eyes wide open. Because so many people do the exact opposite.’
‘I’m sorry, Terry. It’s just that what you’re saying kind of takes the fun out of it.’
‘Sticking a ring on her finger will take care of that, Ben, don’t you worry.’ Terry smiles wistfully. ‘All I’m saying is, just don’t expect wonders. Because the only wonder you’ll get is wondering why you went through with it in the first place.’
‘But my parents seem happy enough.’
‘And congratulations to them. They’re two of the lucky ones. But don’t forget, they’re from a different generation. Trust me, before long, marriage will be a thing of the past.’
I’m starting to wish that this conversation was a thing of the past, and wondering how to change the subject, when fortunately the others arrive, somewhat cutting short Terry’s rant, but even so, it’s been enough to put me in a mood which lasts long after class finishes. And while Terry’s observations are more than a little confusing, if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I’m determined to be one of the lucky ones. To have my cake and eat it. To not feel like I’m compromising, or getting married to someone because I have to, rather than because I want to.
It’s just gone nine o’clock by the time I get home, and I can’t be bothered to make myself any dinner, so just help myself to a beer from the fridge, pop open a packet of Pringles, and slump down in front of the TV. There’s an old episode of the Simpsons playing – the one where Homer’s at home, looking after the kids – and even though I’m laughing, I can’t help wondering whether there’s a lesson for me here too.
Because where Homer’s lucky is that he’s pretty oblivious, or rather, resigned, to his fate. He knows that life doesn’t get any better than this – or rather, his won’t get any better – until the kids are off his hands. So what does he do? He just gets on with it, and numbs any pain he feels with beer and food, making himself comfortable.
Is their quality of life amazing? Obviously not, given the demands that having a family places upon them. And yet, do they ever talk about splitting up, or ask for their money back, because it’s not quite what it said on the packet? Of course not. Because that’s life, isn’t it? One long cycle of birth, marriage, and death. And in between, you have kids, and try and bring them up as best you can, which seems to me – at least, the way Homer does it – to be like hanging precariously on to the lead of a big dog that you can’t quite keep under control.
Because it’s all about a balance, isn’t it? If you know that the price of staying with the woman you love is to do a job you might not have chosen for the next eighteen years, simply because you have to fund these kids who you didn’t particularly plan for, and who occasionally cause you more trouble than happiness, then all you can do is make it as good as possible. I suppose it’s like being in prison – if you’re not going to plan an escape, then you might as well make the best of your ‘stay’, and make your cell as comfortable as possible.
Maybe I shouldn’t take the Simpsons as role models. And am I being naive to think that I’ll be able to do it differently? Possibly. But is it worth it in the end? Probably. Although it’s ironic. You get married because you want to spend your life with one person, and, in reality, these other little people come along and actually prevent you and the person you married spending quality time together, because suddenly your focus is on them, rather than each other.
And yet when I look at my parents, it’s all paid off. They might not say it so often, but I know they’re proud of me, and take such pleasure in my achievements. Every time I tell my dad I’ve sold a painting, it’s like he’s seen me ride my bike without stabilizers for the first time. And now that I’ve left home, they have a good time together, too, perhaps because they feel that they’ve earned it. And as my dad often says to me, when you’ve really worked hard for something, then it means a lot more to you when you finally get it.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe the secret to a long and happy marriage – despite what Terry says – is to work at it. I mean, you can’t expect to get married and just have a great time together from day one. It’s like serving an apprenticeship, I guess – although one that lasts longer than most other training schemes.
And that’s another reason why I’m desperate to get on with it. Because I realize that the sooner I get started, the sooner I’ll qualify, and that’s when life really begins. Because while admittedly it can be fun being young, free, and single, there comes a time when you think ‘here we go again’, and in truth I reached that point a long time ago. Which is why I’m determined that I’m going to make it work with whoever it is I meet.
Look at Ash, for example. He can’t possibly be sure that Priti’s the one for h
im – he doesn’t know her well enough – and neither can Priti, yet they’re both going for it. And the fact that they’re both so positive about where they want to be – rather than what they want the other person to be – means that they’re more likely to make a success of it. And as long as you’re both pulling in the same direction, then surely you’ll get there in the end?
I turn my attention back to the TV, where despite everything that’s happened, the family are together. A unit. Solid. Homer loves Marge, and Marge loves Homer, perhaps because of everything that’s happened. And if someone like Homer can find love, then there’s hope for me yet.
Chapter 13
However, as determined as I am to make it work with the right, er, candidate, there still has to be some fancying going on. I mean, think of the process: I have to see a girl, and find her attractive due to some mysterious combination of – admittedly superficial – characteristics. She then has to look at me and the same thing has to occur. And all that has to happen before one of us crosses the distance between us to make that first, tentative contact, where we open our mouths and actually say something to each other.
Trouble is, I’m not a hundred per cent sure I can rely on my mum and dad’s aesthetic judgement. To that end, I spend most of the morning downloading a selection of images and video clips from the Internet, which I burn onto a CD, then take it round to my parents’ house. Ignoring the usual exaggerated comments about it being too early for lunch, I set the laptop up on the coffee table, and instruct them both to sit down on the sofa.
‘What’s this?’ asks my mum, thrusting a mug of tea into my hand as soon as I’ve inserted the disk. ‘Your holiday snaps?’
‘I don’t have any holiday snaps. Because I haven’t been on holiday. Because I don’t have anyone to go with. And even if I had been on my own, I’m hardly likely to take lots of photos of myself, am I?’
‘Calm down, Ben,’ she says. ‘It’s no wonder you can’t get yourself a girlfriend if this is your attitude.’