Wedding Bells are Ringing, Bouquets are Flying.

Well ladies and gentlemen, its spring in this fine country we call home. Amongst other things it means longer days, warmer nights, the perpetual hunt for an open patio spot, oh, and weddings. So many weddings. “It’s wedding season” you’ll start to utter as your weekends quickly become occupied with each impending nuptial that your close friends and family invite you to. Don’t get me wrong, I love a wedding. If you don’t love weddings you’re going to the wrong weddings, because they ones I’m going to are awesome.

But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about today. I’m here to defend my long-standing title as winner of the bouquet toss. As you may or may not know, I am the proud, seven-time-champion of the single ladies showdown.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself, a bouquet toss isn’t something to be too competitive about and I should just sit back down. Well, you might not be entirely wrong, but if you’re going to parade me onto the dance floor with the fellow finely dressed, unmarried women at your party with the promise of matrimony, I’m going to give it my all. There is the potential of a wedding of my own on the line, and lifelong happiness. Don’t forget the lifelong happiness. And really ladies, there’s nothing sadder than an apathetic bouquet toss.

Continue reading “Wedding Bells are Ringing, Bouquets are Flying.”

Love and War.

It’s all real.


I find myself addicted
To the smile in your eye.
To the laughter on your lips.
I find myself addicted
To the wit that whips your tongue.
To the way you walk away.

I find myself addicted
To the way you make me want.
To the crushing of my heart.
I find myself addicted
To the weakness and the pain.
To the way you walk away.

I find myself addicted.
To the heroine in my veins.

And then she knew

It washed over me all at once. It was such a funny thing, such a simple moment when I suddenly knew. And I knew as if I’d always known. It was knowing that the sky was blue, but finally noticing it for the first time. A flashbulb burst, illuminating everything I’d never understood.

It wasn’t even a special moment. You weren’t even there. It was a Monday. I was dropping off my dry cleaning.

And there it was.

Simple. Obvious. Subtle. It wasn’t passionate, lust filled, jealous. I just knew I could trust you and you could trust me.

It was warmth and ease. It was trust and space.

It was love.


By W.B.Yeats

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that’s lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

John Keats Love Letter to Fanny Brawne – 13 October, 1819

You have ravish’d me away by a Power I cannot resist: and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I have endeavoured often “to reason against the reasons of my Love.” I can do that no more – the pain would be too great – My Love is selfish – I cannot breathe without you.

Yours for ever
John Keats