A Flurry of Feathers and Wings

I've had marriage on my mind the past few days. Not mine of course, I'd need at least a girlfriend to even consider it, but the concept in general and those of a few friends of mine.

It comes up at all because the other day I got news that a childhood friend I had, and the son of friend's of the family since before I was out of diapers, was getting a divorce. And it was news to me, mainly because I've really only had contact with them, my friend and his wife, through Facebook (you know, the current villian, or at least Dragon, to LJ right now) and their words never betrayed anything wrong. Granted you can withhold as much as you want and put on a happy text, but there was really nothing that preceeded this news.

And it's sad, because they seemed (don't they all) happy with each other. I was at their wedding the summer before I moved, and it was a pretty big deal; fancy mansion reserved for the ceremony and reception, a hella lot of food (prepared by the bride's family), a video kiosk for making a congratulations vid, it was a double wedding with friends of theirs, rented old school limo carriages, the works. And every time I saw them they seemed to be in love.

All I found out, and I need to call her (the mother-friend who's keeping me informed) and find out more, is that apparently the wife has had four affairs - whether this counts as four seperate people or just four incidents is unknown - over the course of their three-to-four year marriage. Sad times, I liked them both. Loyalties go to the groom though, he and his family are who I got way back with.

I'm told he's happy now, having removed himself from the situation and making the decision to seperate; happier than he's been in a long time, which makes me wonder how happy he or they were in private.

Before all this and some years earlier, another friend of mine, this time from high school, got married too. This... was not a marriage I supported. For many reason. First, he was too young. He was, I want to say, twenty-two, but not really emotionally set for this level of commitment. He was the kind of person who acted like an adult, because that's how he though an adult should act, but wasn't really quite "acting" like an adult. It's not that I don't think people can't be married young and have it last, but he was just not ready.

Next, they had only known each for about six months, and had been living together for four of those months. To me, for them, much too soon. Again, he was acting how he thought an adult should act, part of that brought on because his to-be wife was some seven years older than him, and had already been married once before. Again, I'm not against short courtships, but for them it was just not something I could support.

Then there just a bunch of smaller things that seemed off about the whole deal. She wanted him to change his name. Not "take her name", but have him change his last name to something else because his last name reminded her too much of an old boyfriend (who's first name was close to my friend's last name) and she would take that. There was also how fast the whole thing came about. From decision, to prep, to date it all came together in a way that seemed like they were rushing towards something but there not being any deadline. She wasn't pregnant, neither was moving anywhere, but still the wedding "needed" to be soon.

As bad as it sounds, myself and few friends started a divorce pool betting on long we thought the marriage would last. We supported them, despite our reservations, but weren't keeping up any false hope.

Their marriage lasted a year. It didn't end well, there was a lot of fighting, and while I think they're on ammicable terms now, it was an ugly seperation. And again, as bad as it sounds, I place a lot of the blame on his shoulders. He had been warned. He, supposedly, knew what he was getting into (I don't truly believe he did). And it was a lot of mainly his decisions after the fact, much of which I found out later, that were what led to the final outcome.

In part because of this, my mind has wandered to the thought of marriage and where I stand on it. My ranking is pretty low. No real love life to speak of. My last real girlfriend is already taken, no real love life to speak of, and I don't really have any game to take with me should I even go out. There is something of a bit of a crush. But nothing that looks like that kind of relationship - or any kind of relationship - on the horizon.

Eh, I'm just gonna depress myself if I keep thinking along those lines, and I've already gone more emo in a few posts than I've wanted to.

Still, I'm sad for my friend. His marriage is ending for reasons he had no control over, and seperating from someone I think he really did love and trusted, and that trust was abused. More than once.

He twirled the rose again, wondering if he was overthinking the whole thing. Sitting in the large hotel lobby, he looked around as people went about their business, checking in, carrying bags, while he just sat in the middle of it all on a plush couch, hunched over staring at the blue rose in his hands.

Blue was her favorite color, he knew that. One of the few details about her he did know, hell he didn't even know what to look for when she got there. How he got to this point seemed like a blur, he hardly remembered being invited down to finally visit, let alone the few months prior getting to know each other through sporatic messages online. There was some kind of connection, else he wouldn't have flown down; there had to be, right?

He studied the rose; he knew blue meant eternal love - or was that everlasting love? - and hoped that she didn't. He had merely wanted the bold color, to make a good first impression, to impress her, not make any declariations.

God, this was all a mistake, what was he even doing here? He didn't know thing one about this city, it was why he was sitting like a putz in this hotel waiting to meet her. He wasn't about to get lost trying to find her; they also didn't want that kind of knowledge, where each other lived. Not yet (ever?); let's just start with dinner and whatever else the night brings. Where is she, is she late, was he early, he shouldn't have let the hair-lady gel his hair, it said he was trying to hard, maybe he should just -

"Um, excuse me? Are you [censored]?"

He looked up, catching her eyes immediately. Shit. She was beautiful. Damnit, he knew he should've sprung for a nicer shirt.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. [Censored], right?" Real names were so awkward, never used much before. But online handles would've made the whole thing even weirder, so they had both agreed to forego them and let each other know the first big thing about themselves.

This, would be the next big thing.

"Yep. Sorry about the time, traffic was weird on the way over."

"No problem, I was just... sitting here. It's a nice lobby and all. How'd you know it was me?"

She giggled, a hand brushing through hair that wasn't out of place anyway. Great, either he was on the right track or had just said something incredibly stupid. "Well, you said you'd be waiting with a rose, and being you're the only guy here, waiting, with a rose, I just figured..." Stupid, definitely stupid.

"Right, right." He held it out. "For you, by the way."

She looked a bit wide eyed, surprised by the small gift, her hand gently accepting it. A hand, he noted, that was surprising smooth. "Thank you." She turned it this way and that, inspecting it like a jewel. "It's beautiful, I love the color." She blushed when she mentioned the color; oh god, did she know the rose color rules?

"So," she said, searching the lobby with her eyes, rocking a bit on her heels, "what do we do now? Are there any plans, or were we just gonna play it by ear? Cause, you know, whatever works for you, you're the one visiting and everything, I just though, you know, hehe." She was embarrassed, he knew this already.

"Yeah, right, plans." He looked around himself, letting his eyes come back to rest on her. "Well, the concierge did help me find a small restaurant not far from here, and it's not going to blow my budget; is an Asian fusion place okay?"

"It's fine. Anything after?"

"Um, that's up to you really, I'm kinda hoping to make it through the meal without you leaving after getting to know me." She laughed, a good sign. "I figured if we make it that far, then we could just see where we end up. I guess there's some kind of street thing going on? We could wander that, you know, just... see where we end up." He felt like an idiot.

"Sounds nice." He looked up; she had a small smile. She was as nervous as he was, but seemed okay with everything so far. He really wanted this to go well, wanted the night to go well, and she seemed willing to give him a chance. Don't screw it up, don't screw it up, don't screw it up, don't -

"Let's get going then." He offered his arm. He regretted it immediately, and almost took it back, but she stole it before he was able.

"Let's." He smiled, and led the way.

***

They stood outside the hotel door, the carpeted silence muting everything around them. Neither said anything, didn't know quite what to say. Both wanted to, but the words, for once, escaped them.

"Do you... want to come in?" His voice was low, searching. Just because everything else had gone well, the chance to still dork everything up was still on the table. But he felt good about asking, especially when she squeezed the hand they'd been holding for the past five minutes.

"For coffee? Or a nightcap? Is that what they usually ask?" her eyes saying yes, even if her mouth didn't.

"Honestly?"

"Hmm, mm?"

"I don't really need a pretense." He reached behind, fumbling with the keycard, but managing to open the door without looking, and took a step inside. He kept a hold of her hands, the rose of the night trapped between their palms, but didn't pull. If she wanted to, was ready for this, then he was going to let her enter on her own.

Still, he was a little surprised when she followed right in step with him, not even hestiating to be led inside. The door closed on it's own.

His hands shook, gently taking the rose from her and setting it on the dresser; not from fear, but from the tick of electricity they'd both been feeling since the kiss at the fountain. He didn't want to rush anything, but both wanted more. Holding hands was only going to last so long.

Her purse slid to the floor, not unforgotten but no longer needed. In a quick move he had her pressed against the wall, both hands cradling her hips, one slipping under the blouse to touch warm skin. The kiss was harder, more hungry than the previous. Her arms were around his in the same instant, holding him close, not letting him away for air. It had been a good night.

He finally pulled back, teasing her as she kept trying to pull his lips into another kiss, pulling back every time she went forward. Their bodies were pressed tight together, each could feel the heat coming off the other. She gasped as his hands went along her sides, barely skimming up along her ribs. At some point during the kiss she'd managed to unbutton his shirt; time to return the favor. He pulled up on the fabric, hoping, but not caring, to not rip the material as it came up and over her head. He didn't take it off all the way, instead getting it all the way just before the sleeves became removed, leaving her wrists trapped together, and her at his mercy.

He held her arms above her head with one hand, snaking the other to the small of her back and pulled her into another kiss, lighter and multiplied. She went flush against him, a leg darting out and wrapping around his so he couldn't move further away. The raised arm came down, bringing her tighter to him, and her arms, still cuffed by her blouse, incircled his neck, pulling his lips back to meet, again and again.

Finally, they just stood there, foreheads softly touching as they gently rocked together to unheard music.

"We should..." He had slight moment of panic. Too fast, damn it, he knew it, god, he had just fucked himself over all because- "...probably take a shower." Idiot! Stop overthinking this!

"Right," he said, not loosening himself in the least. "Shower." He felt the blouse finally give her up, falling in a heap next to the forgotten purse, her smooth hands raking through his hair as they shared another tender kiss.

"Share?" she offered. He saw her wiry smile, matching it with his own.

"You sure? You don't have to..."

"No. I don't." She pushed off from the wall, her hands travelling down his arms to pull at his, leading to the bathroom. "But I want to." She met his eyes, a mix of trust, lust, and something else he was slightly afraid of, but wanted none the less.

He let her tug him forward.

It had been a good night.