Wedding pacts II The Return of the Killer Bride

You know what they say about scary monsters under the bed. Just when you think it's finally gone, dead and buried ( with that handy hatchet you keep by your bedside ), the one thing you fear the most resurfaces from the ground with its hand clawing the dirt.

Months back, I mentioned a wedding pact with one of my oldest friends, Graceless Grace. Since her last blubbering confession on my shoulders, she has remained thankfully silent on the subject of our projected wedding plans. Desperately hoping that she had permanently dismissed our so-called engagement ( in her head anyway ) - and since it seemed to do no harm for her to have her own funny fantasies, I have kept my peace.


Maybe if I hold her tight enough, she'll forget the damned wedding...
Obviously I should have said something earlier. Although she hasn't gotten my consent yet, she has obviously somehow taken my frowning silence as assent since she brought it up again today. It's quite obvious that Grace hasn't been having the best dating record recently judging from the comments I've gotten from her. Somehow or rather crazed sex maniacs and commitment-phobic men don't seem like the marriageable sort. Then again, something else we have in common actually. This afternoon, a surprising message from her had me literally screaming as she asked me to check out the price of garden weddings.

Not sure what the hell she meant by that but I was as shocked by her message as I was by the price of garden weddings. A freaking 25 thousand for about fifteen tables for a themed garden wedding, imagine that! Now, how am I gonna swing that with my measly salary? It would take half a year for me to save that much - if I ate only rice wih tofu and cycled to work. Sure, I could do a striptease for a male burlesque but I doubt I could earn as much as Big Boy Barry of the Kayu Jatis - since honestly, who would pay to see me! Perhaps I could earn more by opening a private clinic.

Damn. What the fuck am I saying? I'm certainly not getting married to her! Don't get me wrong. She's a lovely lady and any heterosexual man who can actually live with her intolerable idiosyncrasies can be counted a lucky man. And God knows I love weddings. But I actually prefer my women a little taller, darker - and manlier.

Told her just that and although she laughed merrily - probably thinking I was making some hokey joke, I don't think she really understood that I meant what I said. Doubt she'd have believed it if I'd waved a rainbow thong right in her nose.

Luckily she added a small caveat this time and added a year to the contract, thereby giving me time - and space - to breathe. Till then, I need to get me a man!