Kookily Ever After - 29th June

d has an idea that ‘as long as people are still getting married, there’s still hope in the world.’

I, thinking myself a harder judge of human character, am not so easily swayed by the idea that a single day of perfect, blind  optimism can be used as a barometer of the general human condition. I tend to play the UberCynic and refer her to the opening scene of the movie Dogma, where people meeting at an airport amaze an angel with their simple love and gladness to be back within each other’s arms. A second angel wanders into shot and reminds him that not six hours ago, one of the reunited lovers was having sex with the best friend of the other, ruining the moment. That’s my angel – I tend to try and force the reality of stressful mortgage payments, screaming kids, the diminution of lust with a continuing partner and the allure of the fresh and the new into the scenario – in other words, I focus on all the things that can blow those simple moments of love and optimism to jagged ugly smithereens of pain and recrimination.

Cos…y’know…I’d rather be honest than happy any day of the week. It’s a sickness, frankly.

But this trip to Liverpool – have you ever been, by the way? It’s brilliant, you should go…go on, we’ll wait… - to the wedding of two old friends of ours…gotta tell you, it’s enough to make a romantic of me.

T and H (which, being married to a woman who likes to be known as d is pretty much how I’ve come to think of them over the years) first popped up on my radar something like ten years ago, at which point they were both married to other people, and in bad – or at least let’s say aggressively complicated – situations. I got to know H first, as I’d built a company intranet of sorts, and she sent me some emails from the Liverpool office. H is one of those people who, on meeting her, make you go “Aww…” She’s one of those people with a grin and a giggle and an outlook on life that makes you sigh, and think, maybe, that things are gonna be fine after all. As such of course, she brings the protector out in a cynic like me, cos people who make the world feel like it’s all gonna be alright are prone to the attention, both in work and at play, of out-and-out bastards with an urge to prove that no, really, it won’t.

I don’t want to oversimplify except where absolutely necessary – I’m not trying to sell you H as an angel-character: she’s a real, complex woman with wants and needs and roadblocks just like the rest of us. But spending time in her company still makes you feel that maybe, just maybe, things’ll work out, even when she herself doesn’t think so.

T on the other hand…

T spends his life solving problems. T is, and let’s make no bones of modesty about this, phenomenally good at solving problems. He gets paid for it, and he’s worth the money, having an inherent instinct when to negotiate, when to fold his arms, when to speak and when to say nothing, and when, for instance, the best thing to do is to walk out of the room. The first time I had much to do with T – who, I should point out, at the time worked at the same organisation as both H and I – was when we were both scheduled to spend a couple of nights in the same house in Aberdeen.

You learn a lot about someone sharing a house with them in Aberdeen…

I learned that T, who has the elongated body of a strangely white basketball player, also has the nature of a poet, the conscience of a social worker, the twinkle of the Scouser cliché, a kick-ass set of culinary skills (He cooked. I let him), and a protective instinct rather more out and proud than my own. He wants to help people. Which is why he spends his days solving problems. Without getting gushy about the whole thing, he’s the kind of Bloke you hope your son grows up to be.

When I first discovered they were a kind of maybe-sort-of-hush-now item, I was all for one of my usual quick fixes – my approach to problem-solving tending to resemble a hand grenade – blow the building up and count the remaining limbs. Neither of them wanting to do that and I couldn’t understand why.

“But you’ll be much happier afterwards!” I pointed out to both of them, utterly ignoring (as is my wont) the complex emotional background and all the people in it, and focusing purely on my selfish vision of the happiness of the two people about whom I happened to give a fig.

Today – ten long-ass years later – was the proof that I’m a numpty. These people…these two  staggeringly impressive people…took the long path, unravelling issues as they went, running into more and different levels of complexity with practically every step they took, and facing those together too, and setting about the task of getting through. Ten years, these two have waited, and loved, and struggled and skillfully untied the obstacles in their way. And loved. Still. They have seen such joy and trouble and they've looked each other in the eye and in the heart and said "Forever."

Their ceremony was beautiful and simple and funny as well - their first dance was to Daivd Bowie's "Couple of Kooks" - a theme for the day, and utterly perfect for the short woman and the tall man who find themselves reflected in their hearts. They had me sniffing like a sentimental snotball all day, because in this wedding, I found d's words to be true.

I do not grant that while people get married, there's hope left in this world. But while people as impressive as this get married - while they struggle and hold to each other, and get through all sorts of things, and still get married - then I'm happy to agree. That gives me hope for the human race, and for love, and all that that often-misnamed or misattributed emotion can do in the world. Here's to the impressive people, and to marriage, now and always, kookily ever after.