Appellation Station

So, I alluded to this briefly in one of my earlier posts, as part of the things that are "too hard so I've been putting them off" in my wedding planning, but I am currently wrestling with what my potential surname will be when I'm married.


When I was a kid I blithely announced that I would have to marry someone whose surname began with the same letter as mine (if not my own surname, although this was unlikely as it's a pretty unusual one) so that I could keep my initials the same, because they presently spell out an Italian word and that delights me.

As I got older I figured that naturally I would be changing my name, but obviously that wouldn't be a problem because by the time I got to the age of getting married I would have already accomplished so much under my maiden name, left my stamp on the world with that identity, and would be ready to move on to my new name. I would be a successful author, perhaps, writing under my maiden name so as to allow any potential children some anonymity from my hoardes of screaming fans. So on so forth et cetera.

Naturally, given my stellar understanding of how accomplishment and fame work, I have of course not managed to do any of these things. But lo, here I am, on the brink of marriage (6 months to go next Tuesday) and suddenly having to consider actually changing my name.

Now for the sake of illustration, I will be using the Psuedo-surnames Bulwer and Lytton, which match mine and Jon's surnames in syllables and some assonance.

I've been a Bulwer for nearly 27 years now. I'm used to being a Bulwer. I like it, I think it fits me.

Faced with the prospect of being a Lytton, I instead find myself struggling to part with my identity for a number of reasons, including, but not limited to:


I don't like change.

I don't. It upsets me. I'm still not over the new photocopier they put in at work (well, that is awful,  and thus justified). This was ably demonstrated in my initial freakout when Jon and I got engaged, and my occasional wobbles when I think about getting married, only to calm myself down by reassuring myself that nothing has or will change fundamentally.

Sometimes I'm okay with change - if it is something beyond my control, if it is something that just has to happen, then I can cope and adjust, but if it is something that I have to make an active decision about? I will dither and fret until people either make the decision for me or I have to just close my eyes and pick.



I feel like it is a bit anti-feminist

 You may have noticed that occasionally on this blog I let slip my somewhat feminist leanings. And whilst some people may argue that the act of marriage is in itself anti-feminist, I am of the school of feminism that feels that as long as people are doing something willingly and equally, with a full understanding of it, then if they're not hurting other people they should be free to do it. However, there is something that sticks a little about the idea of totally removing an aspect of my identity for marriage and substituting it for my husband's instead. Whilst I know it isn't the case, it does feel a little bit like a transferral of property, and like I am being subsumed by this new role as wife.

I know this absolutely isn't the case, and I don't at all think this of women who do change their name after marriage, but it is something which is niggling with me a bit - I had an identity prior to marriage, and I'll continue to have an individual identity after marriage. Shouldn't my name reflect that in some way? Why is my name okay to change, but the man's stays the same? I feel like it is betraying my feminist beliefs in some way to do this.

In Jon's defense, he has never pushed that he wants me to change my name, he has even considered changing his so we hyphenate and both have the same name, Bulwer-Lytton. But, as he's a man he's never had to consider changing his name before so it has been a very difficult thing for him to get his head around.


'Lytton' is actually a surname of a very famous pop culture figure

On the bonus it means it will be  much easier to spell to people over the phone. On the downside it limits the names of potential children a little, and means that it feels like a much more common name. Being a Bulwer, I've never met anyone else with the same name. We were the only family of Bulwers in my town, and I think only one of two in our county. I believe it's a more common name in North America, but I have never in my life met a Bulwer I wasn't related to. It felt like being part of an exclusive little club. It's no fault of Jon's that in the last twenty years Lytton has suddenly become such a hugely famous surname internationally, but even aside from that it was a more common name anyway, so even though it's petty it is something which I can't help but note.



Now, hyphenating is definitely an option. Bulwer-Lytton sounds pretty nifty, and is just the correct number of syllables (and he was also a famous Victorian author, btw). But this also raises issues - I wouldn't be able to just use my marriage certificate to change my name, I'd have to use Deed Poll; would my in-laws think that I'm rejecting them in some way; if we have kids and they get the double-barrelled name, will they hate me forever when they are first learning how to write?

etc. etc.


But even then it still feels weird. I guess it's just a case of getting used to it, but until then every time I think of it there's a little part of my brain just going "what's happening why are you calling me that?"

This is all definitely just to do with me over-thinking things to the Nth degree again, as I do. And there's only one thing to do when you are suffering internal turmoil over something very silly.

Buying the Cow

Over the course of the average week, I tend to spend a fair amount of time lurking over on Weddingbee. This is largely because I am very nosy and like to see what sort of things other people are doing with their weddings. Occasionally I'll spend some time poking around the drama threads, because y'know, everyone likes a little bit of drama, but mainly I'm looking at shiny things.

 A thread which caught my attention this week was where a girl was asking for advice - her boyfriend wanted them to move in together before they got engaged, her family were very against it, and she wasn't quite sure where she stood. This is something which is very much a case of personal preference - for me, I think it's very important to live with someone before I agree to that level of commitment. We had discussed that marriage was a definite in the future, but it was good to have the chance to live with Jon first and set our own routine, and learn how we worked together. For some people, this isn't the way they want to do things, and that's fine. Moral, religious or other personal reasons may stop them from wanting to live with their partner until they are engaged, or even married. And that's totally 100% cool, different strokes for different folks, you know?

But there were a number of comments on that thread where people were emphatically warning this girl away from moving in with her boyfriend before she was married, and they used two phrases that I absolutely loathe.

"Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

and

"playing house"

Both these phrases are so problematic for me on so many levels I'm not even sure where to start, I've been writing and re-writing this post in my head for the last couple of days, and more and more as I've thought of the topic, I've pulled this face:

Where to begin?

Firstly, do you know what one of my favourite things in the world is? It's the assumption that as a woman in a relationship I immediately become the equivalent of livestock, a commodity to be bought and sold, and simply there to fulfil one purpose, with no thought or agency of my own. And not just that, but a particular kind of livestock, that is often used as a derogatory term towards women, to demean and offend them. I love that so much. More than anything. More than chocolate.

 Do you want to know a secret? I don't love it at all. Why, suddenly, just because I am not engaged, have I assumed bovine qualities? Why am I suddenly contributing nothing to this relationship other than 'milk'? I mean, yes, I do have magnificent teats, thank you for noticing, but I like to think that perhaps my long term serious boyfriend, who I am making the commitment to live with, is not simply moving in with me because of them. I like to think that it is perhaps because he finds me witty and intelligent, because I make him happy and because he feels he has found an equal partner in a relationship. Presumably these are all the qualities that would lead him to propose to me, so why are they not worth noting prior to him putting a ring on my finger? Or am I like a robot, and only suited for simple tasks until he upgrades me with new RAM (Ring And Marriage), when suddenly I become a shiny new worthwhile toy to play with, with expanded functionality?

Basically what this sounds like saying is that until he 'buys' me, I am essentially a non-human, with no intelligence worth mentioning, and to be sold off to whoever will have me, and even then I'm only useful for one thing anyway.

Oh, wait, that's basically all of history ever until women got the vote, and hell a few years after that too for good measure. Silly me.

And hey, whilst we're on the subject, if I recall correctly the buying and selling of human beings is generally considered a Very Bad Thing. It's not an issue that there are, in fact, any grey areas on. It's not good. So when we talk about 'buying the cow' - the cow, of course, being me or any woman in a relationship that does not involve some kind of ring - we are doing one of two things. We are either implying that basically a woman entering into a relationship is equivalent to some kind of slavery, and hey that's totally cool because it's only a woman and they're basically vegetables with legs and boobs anyway; OR we are implying that, since humans should not ever be bought and sold, women are therefore less than humans and only objects, or creatures akin to cattle, so it's fine, no worries there.


So, in the very first four words of that repellent soundbite, I have been reduced to a subhuman creature, that can't exist unless I am owned by someone who can make sure that I get the best cud to chew, with one sole purpose for that relationship.

And then comes the oh-so-delicately phrased implication that my boyfriend is only with me because he wants to bone me. And the only way he will want to marry me is if I don't let him bone me before marriage. Yes, that sounds like a really healthy basis for a relationship and long term personal fulfilment, a marriage built entirely on my not dancing the horizontal (or vertical, whatever your fancy) tango with him until I get legal rights to his last name.

As mentioned above, whilst sexual chemistry is of course important in a long term relationship, I would like to think, being the romantic that I am, that when my boyfriend proposes to me it will be because he loves me. Because he values my existence in all areas of life and wants to spend the future with me in a mutually fulfilling and supportive partnership. Not just because I won't touch his peen until he does. And the implication is that that is all I am good for. That I am basically a much cheaper, self-cleaning version of one of those creepy life size sex dolls. My mother would be so proud.

And obviously, you know, it's not like I could make the decision to get married or anything, being a poor helpless milk-source with the intelligence of a farm animal. Of course someone else has to decide to 'buy' me, because being as I am so simple and placid and wholly without agency and so barely counting as a human being that you could probably sell me on ebay with no ramifications, then there is absolutely no way that my living in sin with my long term committed boyfriend could be a mutual decision. There's naturally no thought of my taking a decision about how I want my own life to go, and saying whether or not I am ready for marriage on my own. Well, I'm a woman aren't I? Of course I'm ready for marriage because all women are basically just born to be married and would never make an informed, personal decision to not get married as soon as physically possible. That would be madness.

Leaving aside offensive bovine-themed analogies which belittle the very core of my relationship simply because I don't have something sparkly on my finger, let's look at the other phrase that is oh-so-dear to my heart. "Playing house".


For those of you who are new to the world of offensive relationship soundbites, what this means is that basically any kind of living together prior to marriage doesn't count. It's not real living together, it's not real building a home and planning for the future and learning how to live with another person in a committed adult relationship. It's only pretend. Because naturally of course unless you are married then you are incapable of committing to such worldly things as acquiring furniture, paying a mortgage or rent, and cooking meals. Those are the sort of things you can only do properly once you have had your union legally recognised. What's that? You mean you own your own house with your partner but you're not married? Don't be silly, you're basically playing tea parties in your back garden Wendy House. You're after all not a legitimate human being until you have made a commitment to another person in front of the law and whoever else you please.

This, naturally, means that all people who choose not to marry for personal reasons, or even all those couples around the world who aren't legally allowed to marry, well they are just lesser humans whose relationship stability and commitment don't count because you know, no-one's bought the cow, so the silly cows are stupidly playing at being in relationships and waiting for someone to take them to the milking shed and brand their hocks to say "You're mine".

What it comes down to is this: If you don't agree with living together before marriage for you, then that is fine. Fine fine fine. But don't you dare turn around and reduce the six years of relationship I had before I got engaged to being simply about sex and avoiding grown up commitment. Don't start trying to shame people who make legitimate choices not to get married, either right now or ever, just because it doesn't fit in with some snide 1950s' barnyard analogy. And don't start saying that only valid relationship is one that is legally recognised, because not everyone has that option available to them.

What's that? The comment wasn't aimed at me? By using it as a generalisation warning against cohabitation you were aiming it at everyone who has ever lived together without being married. "If you move in with him, he won't marry you because 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?'" You literally said that, stating that as a point of fact for every relationship ever, to discourage someone from making a decision that does not fit into your world view.

Oh yes, I am engaged now. But those phrases offend me, because they are basically saying that the first six years of my relationship didn't count. That in those six years, anything I learned about myself, my partner and how to have an adult home and commitment was just 'playing', and not at all like the things you worldly wise grown ups do. I was in a committed relationship for three times the amount of time I will have been engaged for when I get married. On our wedding day, the engagement part of our relationship will only make up a quarter of the time we've been together. But that's all that I should be counting? 25% of our relationship is all that matters?

Bullshit. That is one cow that I am not buying, and a pile of crap that you should not be selling. Give advice to people who ask for it, tell them your opinions, but make it clear that they are just that - your opinions, and remember you are not an expert on every relationship ever, so think about that next time you trot out your stock phrases from an era when women were only valued because of one thing, and think about what those phrases imply about you.

Nothing Suits Him like a Suit

Sorry for the radio silence over Christmas guys, but I'm back and getting crack-a-lacking on all my stuff!

The wedding is now just over 9 months away (holy crap that's not a long time at all), and Jon went off at the weekend to try and find himself a suit for this shindig. He had been planning and pondering this for months, and umming and ahhing over which suit direction he would head in from the very start. He was very thorough, because he likes to research, to the point that he even looked up the historical backgrounds of the different types of suits.

Whilst in the US I think it is fairly common for a man to wear a dinner jacket to get married, as I get the impression that the more formal weddings take place of an evening, in the UK the traditional dress for a wedding is a morning suit.

Now, as I understand it, morning suits are basically THE MOST FORMAL SUIT a man can wear. This is what men wear when they are going to be knighted, or collect other honours from the Queen. These are the school uniform for schools like Eton. These are a BIG DEAL.

Traditionally, morning suits were worn in the day time for super-formal events, and then in the evening people would change over to white tie and tails, which is the evening equivalent of the morning suit. But nowadays, at weddings, most people don't bother with that because usually people hire their morning suits, and hiring two suits seems a bit much, and who would own white tie if they don't own a morning suit? (my high school maths teacher apparently, but moving on...) White tie is most often seen on the likes of Fred Astaire, as modelled ably below.

Jon for a brief while was taken with the idea of a morning suit, because he liked the traditional element of it, and also because they're usually worn with a top hat. It was really the top hat that did it for him. Unfortunately, he became less keen when he discovered that he wouldn't be able to get a silk top hat because they're not made any more. Apparently the last machine for making the silk for them was broken by the man who owned it in an argument with his brother. So. He'd either have to buy a very expensive vintage one, or put up with a felt one. He was keen on neither of those ideas.

You see, aside from the hats, morning suits have very little else going in their favour. The combination of a low-waisted, long-tailed jacket, and high-waisted, loose-fitting trousers means that, unless you are about 6' 5" and proportioned like Adonis, you will probably end up looking pretty short and dumpy.

So Jon wrote off the morning suit idea and decided it would make better economical sense to spend perhaps slightly more than the cost of hiring a suit to instead buy himself a really nice suit that he could keep. To splurge a little, using the wedding to justify the expense, and get himself a suit that he wouldn't be able to justify otherwise.


I am all kinds of down with this idea.

I really really like a man in a suit. Particularly in a well-cut, well-fitting suit. And since Jon is also a fan of suits, I knew that I could trust him to go out and pick something fabulous and that he would look fantastic in. And he did not fail me.


Guys. It is THE BEST suit. THE BEST.

Fun with Fruit

And yes, I checked. Botanically speaking, Pumpkin is a fruit, because it's got seeds in.

Because we are having an Autumn wedding, I was really quite taken with the idea of using a mixture of autumnal foliage and pumpkins to decorate the reception. Not because I want a Halloween-y wedding, as one florist seemed to think, going on to suggest that she had jack-o-lantern and spider-shaped table confetti that might look nice (maybe, but not what I was after); rather, I like pumpkins, they make me smile, and they're also I think a nice, classy little nod to Jon's half-Canadian background.

Pinterest, that most dangerous of websites, provided ample examples of nifty pumpkin-decorations, thusly:

(if anyone can provide sources for these, that would be great - I've tried searching but the pinterest links lead to seemingly unrelated pages, and image searching it only brings up... more pinterest pages)

But not only was I enlightened to the idea of stuffing flowers in these seasonal gourds, but to the full range of decorative carving which could be done! Martha Stewart offered these twinkly, and exciting examples:

Although she wanted to cheat and stick fairy lights inside rather than a candle. Whut, Martha?

There were some beautiful decorative carvings as well, which were very elegant!

 

Now, in the UK, Pumpkin isn't really a big thing. It's literally only available for the two weeks before Halloween, and most people wouldn't even consider doing anything but carving it, so trying to find pumpkins that would be suitable for pumpkin pie this year was a bit of a trial. This meant that we had a two-week window to get hold of some pumpkins to have a go at this carving malarkey and see if we were capable of doing anything more than leering faces. HOWEVER, Jon accused me of attempting to ruin Halloween if I didn't do some that were at least marginally spooky, so instead it became more of a practice at using stencils.

Tadaaaa! Here they are, in all their mismatched glory. I'll let you guess which ones were by Jon, and which ones were by me, the 'Halloween Grinch'.

I got very excited about the prospect of projecting an image onto the wall behind the lanterns, and experimented with this to a greater or lesser effect (with mixed success).

Whilst Jon challenged himself to a more complex spin on the traditional theme.

However, Jon also told me, whilst we were beavering away with our carving, that he didn't want carved pumpkins around the place because they'd look rubbish in the day time. 

It's like he hasn't listened to anything I've been talking about for the past year, honestly. Back to the drawing board we go! Let's hope we're on the same page this time, and that he's paying attention.

T-minus 365 Days

This time next year it will be our wedding day.

Jon was quite surprised when I told him it was only a year away. But Jon was also quite surprised when he discovered he was turning 26 this year, not 25 as he'd previously thought, and that next week was November, so perhaps he's not the greatest litmus test of how quickly it feels like this has come around.

This feels like a good place for a gif, but I don't really have one that suits this situation, so have this instead. I imagine this is what happened in Jon's brain when I told him how far away the wedding was.

That said, having discovered that the wedding is now only a year away, Jon has become somewhat less curmudgeonly in the discussion of wedding planning. Nothing like a bit of pressure, gently applied, to grease the wheels of cooperation.


What we have done so far
- Church
- Reception venue and food
- Photographer
- Dress
- My wedding ring


What we have to do
- Flowers, because flowers
- Cake, because cake
- Music, because otherwise we might have to talk to people
- Jon's wedding ring so he has something else to lose around the house other than his watch
- Jon's suit so he is not naked
- Bridesmaids dresses so they are also not naked
- I should probably have some shoes too, don't want to turn up to church looking like that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie gets mugged for her shoes.*

 Can you believe no-one had made a gif of this already? I'd expect one with the caption "Somebody stop him, he stole my strappy sandals!" But nope. For shame, internet. For shame.

*Yes, I am thoroughly ashamed of myself for making a reference to Sex and the City, however I only know about it because I worked at Blockbuster whilst I was at University and got free rentals, and was alone for like three weeks over the summer, so I watched it all, but only because it was free.

What we have to do, continued
- We should probably work out who we are inviting to this shindig at some point
- And I guess we should make and send them invitations so they know where and when they should turn up
- Also maybe we should make a table plan so they know where they are sitting for dinner, and so no vegetarians end up with a very meaty meal
- and there is probably some other stuff we should do as well, but when I get to this point in the list I start to drift a bit and get distracted.


Part of the reason I get lost towards the end of the list is because then it all becomes variables and things that will be longer and more complex to do. I want to get things done, but I want to get the quick-and-easy things done first. Flowers, boom. Cake, boom. DJ, boom boom shake the room. That sort of thing.



Basically I want to put off the difficult bits for as long as possible. Procrastination makes the world go round! Eventually!

Flower Power

This week I am not talking to Jon about the wedding. Whilst I'm actually pretty good at not obsessing over it or bringing it up loads and loads, or handle bits myself so he doesn't have to, sometimes I have to actually talk to Jon about things. This is exacerbated by the fact that he says he wants to be involved, and then when I try to involve him he gets fidgety and tries to get out of it. Every time I ask him to think about something that he needs to decide on (when he wants to get his ring/when he wants to get his suit/where he wants to stay the night before the wedding) he laughs and tells me that I think way too much about the wedding.

I promise there's a reason I'm telling you this.


On Sunday, I got a text from his best man's fiancee, asking what the plan was for the night before the wedding, so they could think about their plans, and Jon followed my question up by telling me that I couldn't go one week without talking to him about the wedding.

So this week I'm not talking to him about it.

But I am talking to other people about it (although actually to be fair, it's this blog and one email, so not exactly masses), just not in front of him, and it's winding him up. Serves him right.

Tangentially, our latest wedding project has been trying to get the flowers sorted.

This has proved particularly tricky, because I am certain that I would like real flowers, and have an idea of the colours and sort-of look I'm going for, but aside from that, I'm rather clueless.

And it transpires that flowers, as with everything 'wedding', are freaking EXPENSIVE guys.
 

But Jon and I had discussed this, we had planned to do it as cheaply as we could whilst still going the florist route to alleviate stress. The lady who does the flowers for the church was going to do our church decorations, and we were going to do our own table decorations for the reception, since it's a very decorative venue anyway. So all we really needed from the florist were the flowers that people were going to be carrying/wearing, and we specifically requested seasonal flowers.

- 1 Bridal Bouquet
- 4 Bridesmaid Bouquets
- 1 Flowergirl Wand
- 9 Boutineers (in Carnations as well, which are both the cheapest and Jon's favourite)
- 2 Corsages for mothers

WELL.

WELL.

The first florist seemed like she gave us a really great deal, until we worked out that yes, it was indeed just for the flowers that people would be wearing.

After that, I took a day and blitzed around other florists in the area, getting comparative quotes. I was doing well, things were looking promising, until Jon then blindsided me a week later by saying he thought we were going to be getting flowers for the tables AS WELL AS making our own decorations.

This is not a huge deal, but does mean that I have to go back to the places we got the cheapest quotes from and go "Plans have changed, how much will it be for THIS instead?" and then compare prices on an even keel.


Of course, this also means that I need to talk to Jon about what specifically he likes as table decorations so I can get an accurate idea from the florists.


Oh, but I'm not talking to Jon about the wedding this week.


FULL CIRCLE STORY. BOOM.

literary couples with healthy relationships

After the drama and depression of my last three posts, I felt a nice epilogue would be to celebrate the couples in literature who it would actually be super to have a relationship like.

Claire's Guide to Awesome Fictional Relationships which Get It Right

 Jane Bennet and Mr Bingley (Pride and Prejudice)

Okay, so Elizabeth and Mr Darcy are of course my OTP4EVA, and also not too bad in the healthly relationship stakes really, but Bingley and Jane get it so right all the time and are just about the loveliest and fluffiest of all couples ever that they need to be appreciated.

In that gif right there, see that? See the size of Mr Bingley's grin? How it even makes grumpy Mr Darcy smile a bit? That is because Bingley is the HAPPIEST MAN ON THE PLANET. He has so much love and joy in him that he is basically the closest a human being will ever come to being a puppy. And he falls in love, from the very beginning, with Jane, because she is sweet and beautiful and ladylike, and he falls even more in love with her because she is so kind and gentle. And she falls in love with him because he's kind and generous and enthusiastic and happy and gentlemanly, and all those good things.

And rather than trying to force things or rush things so she can 'trap' a rich man into marriage, Jane instead lets things progress naturally, doesn't fake anything, and Bingley isn't discouraged at all - not even having met her disaster of a family. Until everyone else tells him she obviously doesn't like him. But does he kill himself? Does he lollop about the place? Nope, he continues to be very much as he is, polite and lovely. He even manages to still be polite and happy to see Jane again, even though he's hurt. 

And the same for Jane - all she does is wish him well, and all she does is look for good in the people around her.

The thing that makes them even happier as well, is how much happiness their relationship gives other people. It's like a feedback loop of love and happiness, and it's wonderful. Look at them sneaking peeks at each other during their wedding. It's the cutest thing ever. (And yes we are only considering gifs from the BBC adaptation because the 2005 movie is so many kinds of wrong I can't even start)

See also: Elinor and Edward, from Sense and Sensibility.

See also also: this gif is making me laugh so much.

Noddy and Henrietta Boffin (Our Mutual Friend)

Ah the Boffins. Noddy and Henrietta. When we meet them, they've been married for many years. They were poor, worked on the dust heaps - piles of poo and rubbish, to you and I - as servants to a miser who dies at the start of the book. When his son, John Harmon, is found dead, they inherit all his money. And it's a fair amount of money. But their ambitions?

"...a good house in a good neighbourhood, good things about us, good living, and good society. I say, live like our means, without extravagance, and be happy."

And a desire to adopt an orphan boy to raise as their own, to benefit from their new wealth and to care for, as they have no children. And to make amends to Bella Wilfer - John Harmon's bethrothed, who they have never met, but whose money they now have. These are good people, starkly aware of their good fortune and wishing to share it with others, and begrudge nothing.

They move out of the dust heap. The night before they leave, Henrietta becomes scared by visions she's having of Ex-Mr Harmon, and his son who they cared for as a boy. Noddy comforts her, takes her around the whole place with a lantern until she is satisfied. But even though she can still see the ghosts, she takes comfort from her husband.

"Opening her eyes again, and seeing her husband's face across the table, she leaned forward to give it a pat on the cheek, and sat down to supper, declaring it to be the best face in the world."

The whole story is filled with relationships built on deception, disapproval and violence. It's easy, particularly when watching adaptations, to become cynical about romance and anyone living happily ever after when, in Dickens' trademark style, all the characters are so flawed! But, as a constant through the whole novel, the Boffins are there to remind you that happy marriages do exist, and are so generous and happy and giving in every way that it's a relief when they appear.

See also: Mr and Mrs Micawber in David Copperfield.



Benedick and Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing)

If we must go Shakespearean, how about a couple that have a relationship that lasts more than a total of 96 hours, and who have both completed puberty?

Beatrice and Benedick have known each other for years, we're given to understand, and match wits every chance they get in their "merry war". Both eschew marriage and love, but despite professing to hate each other seem to seek each other out to bicker with whenever they get the chance. They're friends in their own funny little way.

It takes their friends manufacturing situations where they each hear the other is in love with them to get them to realise their feelings, but when they do it's clear they've been building for a while.

Benedick tells her, "I love nothing in the world so much as you, is that not strange?", and Beatrice replies "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." Compare that to Tristan, who even under a love potion still had space in him to complain about loving Isolde. And much like Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, once all confusions are cleared up they leap right in there.

To me this story is perfect - ignoring the ridiculous sexism and mistrust which come from the Hero-Claudio aspect of the play, Benedick and Beatrice to me are a wonderful romance. Matched in belief and wit, and knowing each other as well as they do. Just looking for gifs from various productions of this play has given me all sorts of warm, squirmy, fuzzy feelings inside. It's wonderful.

See also: I don't know, Shakespeare didn't have many un-messed up relationships. I'm a sucker for The Taming of the Shrew, but even I know that that's not particularly healthy.

So there you go, every time someone mentions a stupid literary relationship, you can now counter with a ready-prepared selection of wonderful literary relationships.