Going to the Chapel

by Swan, Tarn

  Going to the Chapel

  The Stardust Diaries

  Book Three

  June to December 2006

  Tarn Swan

  Copyright © Tarn Swan 2012

  All Rights Reserved. Smashwords Edition

  This electronic book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you so much for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Art by Donna Casey

  Chastise Books

  Table of Contents:

  1st June 2006: Velveteen Rabbit

  15th June 2006: Swans Fly Home

  19th June 2006: Going to the Chapel

  21st June 2006: Honeymoon Over

  23rd June 2006: Hands of Time

  25th June 2006: Kiss from a Rose

  1st July 2006: Ripples on the Swan Pond

  2nd July 2006: Love on a Summer Day

  11th July 2006: Domestic Miss

  13th July 2006: Squatters

  17th July 2006: Global Warming

  19th July 2006: Evil Reindeer

  20th July 2006: Fantasy Lovers

  5th August 2006:Mr Bojangles - a song for Emily

  6th August 2006: Spinning the Waltzers

  9th August 2006: Imperfection

  18th August 2006: Dramatic Art

  22nd August 2006: Last Night of the Proms

  25th August 2006: Reality Check

  26th August 2006: Cherry Popping!

  28th August 2006: Wraggle Taggle Gypsy O

  3rd September 2006: Post Mortem

  1st September 2006: Pillion Pain

  6th September 2006: Kinky Capers

  9th September 2006: Dead Dick and Chocolate Catastrophe

  11th September 2006: Voodoo Barbie

  14th September 2006: A Plague Upon Us

  15th September 2006: Fans and Fame

  19th September 2006: Bed Rest

  21st September 2006: Hospital

  26th September 2006: Near Death

  27th September 2006: Conkered!

  28th September 2006: Musings

  5th October 2006: Inconsequential Shoes

  8th October 2006: Drag Cabs

  9th October 2006: For Better or Worse

  22nd October 2006: Tight Fisted Faggot

  23rd October 2006: Contraceptive Dumplings

  25th October 2006: Rosebuds

  31st October 2006: Gomez loves Morticia

  6th November 2006: Reading Matters

  10th November 2006: Sheherazade

  22nd November 2006: Perceptions

  23rd November 2006: Gearing up for Battle

  25th November 2006: Alarm

  26th November 2006: Hair Raising Spectacle

  27th November 2006: Doomed

  4th December 2006: Fizzing and Twinkling

  6th December 2006: The Three Unwise Men

  7th December 2006: Advent

  12th December 2006: Jewel Thief Targets Queen

  13th December 2006: Soap Operas

  14th December 2006: Santa Claus the Burglar

  18th December 2006: Waiting

  20th December 2006: Walking in the Air

  23rd December 2006: The Cost of a Free Sample

  "A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, and always with the same person." - Mignon McLaughlin

  1st June 2006: Velveteen Rabbit

  Tragically, my date did not oblige me in certain areas. In fact my date set about me with astounding violence the moment I arrived to pick him up for lunch. He also set his newly acquired pet on me. I've heard of crocodiles attacking humans, but never while being swung by the leg by another human. Once he had stopped thrashing me with the beast he stuck a hand up its bottom and had it tell me that my wicked attempts at getting the sympathy vote and guilting him out had failed.

  At this point I should perhaps make clear, before any animal lovers complain about crocodile abuse, that the croc in question was a soft toy hand puppet and the person with his hand up its bum was Twinkles.

  He'd just read my diary prior to me picking him up and was absolutely livid because I'd made it sound like he'd forsaken me. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist reading the diary to see what I was saying about recent events. I asked if it had made him feel he ought to reconsider things and let me come home, as I was obviously miserable. His reply was succinct. No! I was to resign myself to staying with my mother until after the wedding. I was not going to be obliged in any areas beneath the waist. Furthermore, areas above the waist would also be put out of bounds if I didn't come clean and set certain records straight at the first opportunity, such as about the date he'd gone to the pictures with, and who he'd slept with last night.

  As the singing nun, played by Julie Andrews, might say, let's start at the very beginning, though I promise not to end with a chorus of ‘Doe a Deer.’

  It's true that Twinkles and I did indeed separate on Sunday at his request, well, not so much request as royal command. I woke up to find he'd packed my bags and arranged for me to move back to my mother's. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay home with him. I like being home with him. He was adamant. I was leaving. He wanted our wedding to be special and he felt us living apart the week prior to it would make it all the more meaningful. He also wanted us to feel excited about one another again. In short he wanted to be courted all over again, to feel the thrill and anticipation of getting ready for dates.

  I suggested courting him from the comfort of home. He said it wouldn't be the same and anyway, living apart would make abstaining easier. Abstaining? Er, what abstaining?

  As well as changing locations it seemed I was also to be celibate. Mark me un-thrilled. He said it would be worth it come our wedding night, because we'd be raring to go. I pointed out I was always raring to go. He was insistent. I was moving out. I was romancing him and there would be absolutely no sex.

  I pleaded to be allowed to abstain from the comfort of home. He said no. He didn't trust me to keep my hands and other bits to myself, nor did he trust his own hands and bits, so it was best that none of our bits were put into temptation until the big day. What happened between our own hands and bits was a matter of personal choice.

  I told him I wasn’t happy with the idea. He played the ‘if you truly loved me’ card gilded with tears. I capitulated albeit with reluctance. I went home to mother after leaving him with a list of dire warnings about what I'd do if he engaged in any Brownlow baiting or neighbour wars while I wasn't in residence.

  Did Twinks really sleep with a 'trusted friend' of mine last night?

  Oh yes! The trusted friend in question was no other than my newly discovered childhood companion, Croc. Eh? Well, bear with me please; the date Twinks had, the one Lu called to tell me about, was in fact me. He was calling on behalf of Twinks to give me my cue as to time and place to meet him. Twinks wanted the thrill of waiting for someone to turn up, dismissing Lu's gripes that he wouldn't think it so thrilling if he'd been stood up as many times as he'd been stood up and seeing as he knew I would turn up anyway it lacked authenticity.

  In the event I was the one left sweating, as Twinks wasn't where he was supposed to be and arrived some twenty-five minutes late, just as I was panicking that I'd either misheard Lu as to the meeting place or had been stood up. Luckily for him there were too many witnesses for me to do what I had an inclination to do and wallop his rump. He reminded me he had always been late for dates. He was simply holding to tradition.

  We had a wonderful eve
ning. The film was enjoyable, dinner was lovely and afterwards I took him home hoping to be invited inside to view his etchings, but alas it was not to be. For a start he couldn't get in himself. He had forgotten his key. I didn't have mine with me, so it was back to my mother's house to get it. Mum and Prissy had friends over for a Bridge evening, so I made coffee and we went upstairs to drink it. I felt like a teenager again, taking my boyfriend upstairs to my bedroom.

  Twinks took an instant fancy to Croc who was sitting jauntily on my pillow. He wanted to know all about my childhood attachment to this cuddly glove puppet. Frankly I was more interested in attaching myself to Twinks, but despite my best efforts I got no more than a kiss, a cuddle and a slapped hand.

  After coffee I once again took Twinkles home, escorting him to the front door, as any gentleman does for his date. We enjoyed a passionate goodnight snog in the hall. I was optimistic I would get to stay, but no. I was detached, pushed outside, bade night-night and the door was locked. I trudged back to mama’s house.

  At two in the morning I got a tearful phone call. My spirits rose. It was Twinks. He was missing me. He couldn't sleep and there was a funny noise downstairs, would I come over to check it out and bring my croc puppet toy along with me.

  The noise turned out to be the kitchen tap dripping. It needs a new washer. I checked round and declared there was nothing of sinister note. He thanked me, hugged me, took my cuddly crocodile and sent me back to my mother's to sleep alone. I got my revenge by calling him at half past six in the morning to enquire how Croc had slept. He retorted Croc hadn't slept and neither had he because Croc couldn't keep his hand off him, if I got his drift. He then claimed it was the best hand/blow job he'd had in many a long day.

  I was deeply shocked to learn my trusted childhood friend had given head to my partner. I would have to wash his mouth out. I was also a bit miffed because I hadn't thought to utilise him in such an interesting way. I could see us taking a third on honeymoon with us.

  Lunch on the River Princess was a delight. It was something we'd always meant to do but somehow never got around to. We talked in a way we haven't talked for ages, about anything and everything. Later we went up on deck and he slipped his arm through mine. We stood in quiet companionship watching the riverbank glide by and sunbeams dance on the water.

  Afterwards he came back to mum's with me and we helped her tidy the garden. He teased her about her wedding outfit, which she's being secretive about. He said he’d kill her if she came decked out in some hideous turquoise or salmon coloured mother of the groom outfit with matching feather hat. She turned the garden sprinkler on him by way of reply.

  When it came to parting last night we were both a bit emotional. We won't be seeing each other again until we meet at the register office on Saturday at one o clock. We're having our Stag nights this evening at the PP, which leaves Friday clear to recover from any excesses. He'll be upstairs with the girls. I'll be downstairs with the lads, so that any friends who wish to cross dress between the two can do so, but Twinks and I will remain apart. Bear Daddy has promised to take me under his wing and show me a good time, which has frightened me to be honest. I don't fancy being his slave cub. I'm out of there if he tries to get a collar anywhere near my neck. Brian has assured me he won't leave me alone with him for any space of time.

  Maryanne is driving down from Scotland today, she, Lulu and Kevin will be staying with Twinkles to make sure he's okay and doesn't come to any harm. I'm still uncertain as to the wisdom of this. I can see them staying up partying all night. I've told Maryann not to let him drink too much and not to let him do anything silly or let anyone do anything silly to him. She told me to stop nagging.

  So, my own dear queen, I have no doubt you'll be nosing at this at some point. As you can see the record has been set straight. I'll see you at the ' civil altar' on Saturday. Don't you dare stand me up because like the boy who loved the Velveteen Rabbit I love you and I will go on loving you until your fur grows thin and your whiskers rub off and further still beyond that, and just so you know, you have always, always been very real to me.

  All my love and affection,

  Tarn...xxx

  15th June 2006: Swans Fly Home

  We're back...Mr and Mr and Mrs Swan. I never thought I'd end up married, let alone a polygamist. We did a lot of talking with regard to how we wanted to be known after our Civil Partnership Ceremony. Twinkles was torn between wanting to take the traditional route with the 'wife' taking the husband's name to show we considered our union as being equal to a heterosexual civil union, and being reluctant to give up the name of Lane because he felt it was somehow disloyal to his father, especially as he was the last male in the family to carry it. We considered me changing my name to his, but that didn't feel right either, nor did hyphenating or double barrelling our names. Apart from that particular option meaning a mess on with deed polls, it sounded funny, whatever way you put it. Lane-Swan or Swan-Lane coupled with our Christian names sounded like the beginning of a joke and we decided not to go there.

  In the end he decided he wanted to take my surname because it would make us feel more married and had the added bonus of disconcerting my poor father. We also went the traditional route with regard to wedding rings by choosing to wear them on the third finger of our left hands. To be honest I am not a jewellery person at all. I'm not comfortable with the concept of bling. I wear a watch and that's it. However, Twinks was so upset when I said I was uncertain about wearing a wedding ring that I changed my mind.

  His wedding band has small diamonds set into it, but mine is plain. I like it and often find myself admiring it, not as an item of jewellery, but for what it represents. I don't just mean hard won legal rights. Corny as it sounds, this plain circle of platinum represents the fulfilment of the wish I made at Karen and Paul's wedding, when I realised I had found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I wished I could demonstrate the fact, just as they had done, before witnesses.

  Some gay couples choose to wear their wedding rings in a reversal of the traditional, on the third finger of the right hand, or on other fingers to show their marriage is different. I don't quite get the reasoning behind that, but then it's not mine to get. Twinkles and I did what was meaningful for us and, as the saying goes, to each their own.

  We got back from our honeymoon last evening. It was good to be on familiar territory again, or as Twinkles said in best Dorothy from Oz style, 'there's no place like home.'

  In accordance with his rights as a new spouse I ceremoniously carried him over the threshold of our abode. I'd actually carried him over it before we went off on our honeymoon, when we returned home from our wedding night hotel, but you know Twinks, everything to excess. He said he likes being lugged about by a strong, handsome man, but I'd do until one turned up. Cheeky toad! Thinking about it I have ceremonially carted him over the threshold once before. It was when we first moved into the house at a time when the CP Act looked like a fantasy that would never be realised and we had to play make believe.

  As well as carrying him into the house, he also wanted me to carry him upstairs in the style of a romantic film hero. Being far too soft for my own good I obliged and almost put my back out in the process. I was knackered by the time I dropped him unromantically onto the bed. The only thing I was fit for afterwards was a nap, much to Twinks' disgust. He'd slept all the way home on the plane. I hadn't, not only because he'd utilised me as a comfy pillow, but because he had snored like a walrus with sinus trouble. It had prohibited me and anyone else with a notion from following suit. The air stewardess jokingly asked if anyone required earplugs. He'd also napped in the car on the drive home from the airport.

  After some ten days of fairly constant sex I didn't think preferring sleep was any slight against his allure or a sign that my potency was waning. While I slept he busied himself, but not with unpacking or anything useful like that you understand. He called family and friends to let them know we were back and to tell them what presen
ts we'd bought them, while simultaneously catching up on happenings in the Big Brother House via the website.

  We honeymooned in Italy and it was absolutely fantastic. The Italian Lakes are so beautiful. The more we explored the more I fell in love with the area. Mind you, things got off to a very shaky start. I thought it was all going to go belly up.

  We arrived at our small, friendly, family run hotel on the shores of romantic Lake Maggiore to find that our room, far from being a light, spacious ensuite double with a balcony enjoying beautiful views of the lake, was in fact a glorified gloomy little broom cupboard. It had a cracked washbasin in close proximity to what appeared to be prison bunks. Worse, oh much worse, the 'balcony' turned out to be a wide, crumbling window ledge overlooking the hotel kitchen.

  Our flight out to Milan had been delayed by almost five hours. We'd had a long, hot, uncomfortable bus journey to get to the hotel and we were sweaty and tired. Twinkles consequently threw a massive tantrum when he saw the room we'd been allocated. He yelled that he hadn't lashed out a fortune to come all the way to Italy just to go back in the frigging closet. He threw his cases back out into the hall, burst into noisy tears and collapsed on the floor, saying he wanted to go home immediately. He wasn't spending a single minute, never mind a week shut up in a shit hole. He claimed the hotel cat probably had more spacious accommodation and it was prejudice, that's what it was, sheer prejudice! They'd discovered we were a gay honeymoon couple and they'd given our real room to an acceptably straight honeymoon couple.

  I told the terrified porter I wanted to speak to the manager as soon as possible. He didn't need telling twice. I've never seen anyone outside of athletics move so fast. He disappeared from view in seconds.

  The manager was apologetic, but set about persuading us that our room was really only 'slightly' different to the way it had been described in the brochure. He changed his tack, as Twinkles grew more and more hysterical. I had by then hauled him up from the floor. He was clinging to me wailing and sobbing that everything was ruined. He wanted to go home. I think there's a breed of Italian men who simply cannot bear to see a woman cry, even if that woman is a man. Twinkles was wearing his long blonde Cher wig, a bright yellow sundress, sunflower costume jewellery and elegant sunflower sandals, but he had checked in as male, because he's shown as male on his passport.