A while ago, I announced my engagement; an engagement to myself. The plan was to marry myself last March, sometime when the sun waved hello. The sun never blossomed its orange buttocks into the sky, so I postponed my plans until the time felt right. Since my current homeland of Danang, Vietnam has blessed me with ripe sunshine for the last two weeks, I am taking it as a sign to push forth and marry myself sooner than later.
Vietnamese like their weddings. Though December is normally the "luckiest" month to marry, I am thinking I like the sound of June. June. June.
And, it's cheap to marry here. Rather than paying a fortune for an impractical dress you'll only wear once, you can rent them for the day. They are fluffy, ornate and look a bit like a huge dollop of whipped cream with cherries and sprinkles. Vietnamese brides tend to wear a few different dresses on their wedding day. I might just do the same. They also come in various hues of red.
As for the vows, I have begun to scribe some emotional as well as practical reasons for marrying myself onto legal tablets.
Here is what I have so far:
I shall honor your mind and feed it the right amount of literature, pornography and music.
I shall challenge you each day, and root you on with the help of backup singers and miniature cheerleaders.
I shall care for your body in sickness and in health, nourishing each follicle of hair and inner and outer cell.
I shall sing to you when you are feeling glum.
I shall not put up with your shit, and will spank any cantankerous behavior from your flatulent rump.
I will forgive you when you have betrayed me.
I will not let you falter.
I will trust each of your actions and address patterns when they arise.
I will make you pay attention and keep your lungs afloat with breath.
I will follow you wherever you choose to go (even to N'Djamena).
I will massage your knees, elbows and chin each day.