phobia - wibbler.com

All hooked up, nowhere to go…

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So, the aftermath of The Engagement announcement was enjoyable! Most people said it was about time, others were amazed that I’d started settling down, and Jac tried to guess the event from my mysterious non-committal “I have news” email to him. “Before looking at the answer,” he wittered on, “let’s take the following facts into mind: Valentine’s Day has just passed, you spent the weekend in Bath, you have bought a house together, you’ve been with Michelle for longer than I have been with all my girlfriends put together. You must be engaged. SPLENDID. Now, let’s just check…”
And the rest of the people? Well, amusingly some seemed to be using my commitment-phobia as justification that they shouldn’t settle down themselves. That’s pulled the rug, hasn’t it.. 😉
Still, what I didn’t realise is that as soon as an engagement is announced, everyone asks, “Do you have a date for the wedding?”. God knows I’m not the best planner in the world, and of course the answer is “no”. However, to get a date, you need to know a venue, and to get a venue you need to know what kind of wedding you want. I may well be using my friend and Event Manager Extraordinaire Paul D regularly, and my Best Man status at Nick’s wedding in October will be a useful learning ground. Where on earth do you start, though? Confetti.co.uk seems as good a place as any. And, as many will know, my decision-making is legendarily lengthy – so any advice from you guys would be great…

All Spliced Up

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There are big stages in life that you always look back on. ringading.jpg
Your first day at school; your first kiss; your first job; your first house. Hell, even my first deep-fried Mars bar, down on the Portsmouth seafront, is a moment deeply-imprinted on my brain. As was the queasy feeling the next morning…
Well, on Saturday Michelle and I added another much more important snapshot to our pile of memories. In the depths of Bath, in our favourite hotel, Michelle followed a fun paper-based trail I’d made around the hotel room, eventually reaching one with a very important question. And now, after nearly 6 years – and after Michelle had checked to see if I was joking – we’re engaged!
ENGAGED, for goodness sake.
For Michelle, it was the end of a long wait, bless her. And she has waited very well indeed. She’s currently at work, looking for someone to notice the ring.
For me – well, those that know me will testify to my commitment-phobia and lack of urgency and this was, frankly, a pretty large step.
For us, it’s the next stage in a fun fun life – even if the first thing most people have said is “about bloody time”… 😉

Right, I need boxes.

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If there’s one thing you can be certain of in life, it is that you can never be certain. In amongst the japes and downright fun, there’ve been many opportunities to learn the finer art of disappointment in my twenty six long years in this world. There was the certainty that as the top athlete in my year I would win most of the athletic events in my school Sports Day – only for me to sprain my ankle the day before my one big chance of sporting glory, by jumping a tad recklessly over the net upon winning a game of tennis. There was the momentous occasion where I was certain to score the highest mark in the school history of Latin exams, only to find that I had forgotten to turn the exam paper over and finish the remaining 15 questions. And of course there was the unerring belief in my early years, along with around ninety percent of boys, that I would be a rock star by the age of twenty-one.
And what have I learnt? I’ve learnt that I should never assume anything – especially if it involve becoming a rock star. And why am I droning on about this? Because despite positive rumblings all week, it’s only now we’ve put pen to dotted line that I can bring myself to announce that I’m moving into my own flat. That’s right – fleeing the nest, out of my mum and dad’s coveting wing and into the big bad world. Not only that, but in the most ambitious step since I popped out of my mother one fine October day, I’m moving in with Michelle, my long-suffering but wonderful girlfriend. We’re settling in St Luke’s Square, Guildford, from the 1st February, and feathering our nest before we host a suitably grown-up
housewarming party.
To be honest, I’ve been threatening to move out for the past year, so it’s come as no surprise to my nearest and dearest. But it’s a big step, the largest of many big steps Michelle and I have made in our lives during the past year and its one we’re definitely looking forward to. My commitment phobia seems to have abated, and for that I’m eternally grateful. She is, frankly, a lucky girl.
The next few weeks will be a blur of packing boxes, phone calls and joint bank accounts, before I finally bid farewell to one part of my life and welcome in the next. There’ll be a lot of people to thank, and a lot to invite round. I’ll have to learn how to work a washing machine, for goodness sake.
But, frankly, it’s probably about time.