Blythe was a rather oldfashioned lass who desperately wanted to get married. Modern girls arent so keen on the whole till death do us part thingwhy haul a whole pig into the house when one decent sausage will do? And nowadays sausages of every sort and size crowd the supermarket shelves. Even plain cohabitation is no longer a scandal; its practically encouraged.
Back then there were still things like honour, pride, propriety and a handful of other pointless virtues. Today even a lazy squire like Sir Reginald isnt seen as a bad characterafter all, his estate keeps sending him regular stipends. Hes practically a rentier! And if you handed a smartphone to a bloke named IantheLazy, hed instantly be hailed as a successful influencer with a thriving side hustle.
When it comes to family life the rule now is do as you like. Meet in cheap hotel rooms, in hourlyrented flatswhatever the market throws at you! Theres even something called a guest marriage where you skip the registry office entirely. Who knows what will happen after the wedding? Back then a mismatched pair of socks or a terrible borscht was a tragedy.
Nowadays the real horrors are things like infantlike dependence, mammysnark and chronic nothingtodoblandness among suitors. And, of course, nothingtodoblandness shows up in ladies too, especially when theyre busy admiring their own reflection. Oh, and the evergrowing list of demands from both sexesbread isnt enough; youve got to bring the whole bakery. And, of course, the shopping.
Blythe was a pleasant exception: goodlooking, without any of the latest plasticsurgery upgrades, and with a respectable degree from a reputable university. She had a solid job paying a decent salary in pounds. Yet, for some reason, men passed her by, marching off in tidy rows to pair up with othersessentially stepping onto the same old ruts.
Dont think Blythes life was devoid of menshe was a pretty thing! It just never got as far as the registry office. She was already pushing thirty, and the oldfashioned firstborn talk from the welfarestate days now translates to young mums up to sixty. Blythe didnt want to have a baby just for herself without a husband.
She also believed in horoscopesmore precisely, in astrological forecasts, which she thought were the clever folks way of making a quick buck. In tough times, every prediction was absurdly positive: On Tuesdays first half youll meet a billionaire! So she packed a toothbrush just in case he turned out to be serious.
Blythe searched for a partner according to zodiac signs. She was a Sagittariusfire sign. The other fire signs are Aries and Leo, with Sagittarius being the most laidback of the lot.
Her first great love bloomed in her first year at university, an age now loosely called nurseryage by the older generationwhat could eighteenyearold babies possibly know? Well, they did know where to go: todays sexeducation lessons are nothing like the stern lectures of yesteryear, so go frolic in the woods with your pollen and stamensweve moved on.
Then came the creative block. Bills, transport, and food had to be paid, and the shock hit: groceries now had to be bought, not raided from a communal fridge as it used to be. Blythes parents had previously funded her, but she lived alone and the twoperson budget just didnt stretch.
That revelation hit her boyfriend, Vick, who lived in Blythes flatthe one her grandmother gifted her when she turned sixteen.
Werent you supposed to buy the food? he asked, genuinely puzzled.
Why me? Blythe replied, equally surprised.
But the fridge is yours and Im not the head of the household! Vick explained, as if following a perfectly logical chain.
If thats the issue, clever Blythe retorted, Ill hand you the reinsrun the kitchen as you like!
Predictably, Vick vanished, even stopped saying hello in lectures. After all, he was a Sagittarius toowhat a coincidence, eh?
Blythes plans for the registry office never materialised, but she kept dreaming. She loved Vickafter all, he was her first boyfriend.
Youth and time moved on, and a second steady fellow appeared when she was in her third year. He wasnt from her university crowd, so the drama was fresh. Sergey was over thirty, already divorced, and declared, Well get married, love! He claimed serious intent, yet he had no steady job. This was before the modern gigeconomy craze and before any special operations were underway; the country wasnt yet the maze it is now.
Nonetheless, his life was a constant string of setbacks: being sacked, absurd boss demands, unbearable shiftsclassic Britishstyle workplace horror. He tried to survive on a couch, claiming, Im looking for work, lovetwice as hard for both of us. Blythe felt sorry for him.
Maybe you could be a courier? she suggested timidly.
Im an analyst! he boasted.
Can an analyst be a courier? Blythe asked sensibly. Drive and analyse on the gowhats the harm? I bought groceries with my last pennies.
Ask your mum! Say were in temporary hardship.
Two months Ive been telling her the same.
Time is a long thing! he quoted, looking proud. Hows my erudition? You should be thrilled Ive snagged a bloke!
Blythe retorted, Then stop asking for food! Times have changedmove on! She was sharp as ever.
Who are you telling to move on with? snarled Yuri Petrovich, the exbachelor. You suggested that to me? Hed never been dumped before; this was his first time hearing such a twist.
No, I offered it to Mayakovsky! Blythe shot back. You can both go away and let him feed you.
Yuri, a Capricornrenowned for diligence and reliabilitytook the insult like a punch to the gut. He swore hed never been so outwitted.
The third suitor, Len, also believed in the stars. Theyd met on an astrology forum, and their chats blossomed into genuine affection. Yet Len kept insisting on calling their signs zodiacs.
Why? Blythe asked. Why twist the word?
Its funny! he chuckled. Everything works without you, love!
She remembered her grandmothers wise words: You cant have it all, love, without a bit of sense. Their banter was peppered with nonsense like SnaDog, Stervadesa, Dubina Regovitskayainvented words that poured from his mouth like a neverending comedy routine. At fortyone, Blythe was getting fed up with the endless gibberish, though otherwise everything was decent. Both had good jobs and were free; Yuri had an adult son from his previous marriage.
Initially, Len was shy, then he warmed up and turned on the charm fulltilt. A scandal erupted when, in front of Blythes grandfathera retired MI5 officerLen called a fellow guest Zerzhinski. He laughed heartily at his own joke: What, youre quiet? Have a good laugh!
Jesus, Mary! the grandfather shrieked, his Polish roots showing. Off with you, you daft fool! Whats this nonsense?
The incident happened at a family gathering where theyd already assumed the roles of bride and groom. Their attempt to head to the registry office also fell apart. Len turned out to be a Taurusearth sign, like a Capricorn, and the most touchyfeely of the zodiac bunch.
Enter Peter, a man with none of Lens irritating quirks. Divorced, childless, handsome, not poor, educated, with a good sense of humour and a decent onebed flat. He was also thriftyborn under Virgo, another earth sign famed for carefulness. Perfect for a future household, youd think.
They applied for the next step: Peter moved in with Blythe, turning his flat into a rental. Then he asked her to register himBritish speak for adding him to the electoral roll at her address.
Why? Blythe asked. Youre already registered at yours! I get it if you have no address at alltoday thats a disaster. But why now?
How come? Peter replied, surprised. We love each other, were practically a family! Everything should be shared!
It reminded Blythe of an old joke: Transfer your flat onto me, please! Oh, sorry, wrong startdo you believe in God?
The love talk began: We love each other
Fine! the bride answered after a pause. You spoke nicely about love, family, and sharing, so Ill register you, and youll register me!
Where? the bloke wondered.
In my flatour lives are now one!
But you dont live there! he protested after another moment.
If thats the only issue, lets swap flats every monthyours one month, mine the next! clever Blythe suggested, though she was already feeling a bit let down, her own emptyempty situation glaring.
Peter fell silent; nothing brilliant came to mind. He hadnt anticipated that shed cut him down. He had no retort.
What now? Blythe pressed, eyeing his onceimpressive face. Seems like a very sensible plan!
Nothing else was missingjust the absurdity of registering a stranger in your own property. If only he could move in with his future wife, perhaps something would work out
Peters previous marriage had ended in a messhis first wife was a bit of a nightmare. He was painfully stingy and terribly mercenary. Both sat in uncomfortable silence, unsure how to proceed. Pretending nothing happened was no longer an option.
Blythe left the kitchen for the living room while they ate, letting the gentleman untangle his own thoughts. After about fifteen minutes, Peter leaned over and asked, Blythe, fancy a night at the cinema?
Sure! she replied, his relief evidenthed already paid a deposit for a fancy restaurant.
She added, So, will you register me, Petey? I didnt quite catch that.
He looked away, shuffled, and left. She didnt chase him; at least they hadnt spent a fortune on a wedding they never got around to.
Is this how everyone ends up? Not quitesome of Blythes mates did get hitched. Two of them managed a halfyear marriage and a yearlong one; the third, as the joke goes, slipped away slowly.
Blythe herself was also getting married in a wayshed lived more than a month with several civil partners, and there was love, albeit a pragmatic kind. Love, after all, isnt just feelings; its actions and deeds. Most of her suitors didnt truly love her, though.
In a certain unfriendly land theyd say, There are no bad people. Even though Blythes men werent Aries, they were all a bit of the same herd. Its annoying, sure, but not fatal, dear Blythe!
Now past thirty, Blythe stopped obsessing over marriage. Shed been promoted at work, swapped her grannys tiny flat for a cosy twobedroom, bought herself a sleek imported car, and taken a weekend away. She concluded life was going swimmingly.
Besides, the fertile window now stretches up to sixty, so she could still have a baby just for herself if she wanted. And sausages? Theyre everywhereenough to feed an army.
