Wedding Call

I hate getting phone calls from odd country codes. It’s always bad news from a far away place.

Lassie Lynn, do you love me?

This a trick question?

No.

I mean… I gueeeess~ Hahaha!

Do you love me enough to let me go?

Is everything all right?

I think I’m getting married.

Oh, wow… That’s great. Congratulations.

…So you’re okay with that?

…Sounds like you’re asking for my permission.

He told me his girlfriend of a year and a half was pressuring him for marriage. She said it wasn’t right for him to “play with her” if he had no intention of wifeing her. Seamus is about as steadfast and assertive as they come; they don’t make ’em like that anymore. I blame the feminazis for squashing the male-dominance gene out of our progeny; fortunately they haven’t gotten to everyone… But if there was a topic to crush Seamus into submission, it would probably be marriage. Something about sacraments, vows of unending love, honesty before God and your soul mate. Dude gets intense when he talks about spending the rest of his life with someone. I guess the Catholics do a few things right.

I feel he wanted me to say I didn’t want him to marry. I think he wanted me to tell him that I’d die without him; that he belonged to me and I to him. I mean, if we’re going by time as the gold standard, six years – even if it was on and off – is certainly a longer time to be with someone than a year and some change.

But I think we both know that boat sailed off towards the horizon a long time ago.

You have to do what’s right by you, Seamus O’Hare; no one else will do it.

You always did.

What the fuck. Stop.

I have to go to class now. Congratulations again. Send me an invitation. It’ll be the first wedding I attend.

You know, I love you. I’ll still love you even after… all of this happens.

What if I get a bowl cut?

I hung up. I didn’t need to hear his answer. I knew what it would be. I’m pretty much Han Solo.

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