So, last week, I got married. No big deal, people do that all the time — although I personally plan on doing it only once, to be absolutely clear. The couple of days after that were great: French labor laws give you days off when you get married (I hope other countries have the same system, although I haven’t tried myself, see comment above), so we slept in, walked around a still warm Paris (a lot has changed in a week: like, I have to wear a sweater indoors now), ate ice cream… you know, the life.
Then, she left. OK, it’s not quite as dramatic as it sounds: she was always supposed to leave. OK, still a little heavier than the actual story: she had already planned a work trip starting a week after our wedding. For a week. Abroad. No big deal, except for the cat. The thing is, she now works for an international company, the head office is in Berlin (hence our extended stay there this summer, which I was really fine about), she has projects going on over there, so the plan is she goes to the mothership a week every month, or something to that effect. In other words, I knew all that.
Still, when the alarm clock rang at 6:40 am last Saturday morning, i.e. exactly a week after the day we got married, for her to get dressed and jump on a train, I’ll readily admit I wasn’t amused. And that’s not simply because waking that early on a Saturday morning is quite simply criminal, but also because I had gotten used to having my wife around (although I realize I’m still not 100% used to writing the word “wife” down just yet: such is the beautiful new reality of newlyweds…), and it was just a tad too soon.
What’s interesting is that, on paper, I was absolutely fine with the idea. After all, I’m a modern man: if my wife has to travel to make a living while I stay at home and take care of the cat, I’m nice enough to say “yes”. It’s just that, when that clock rings at such an insane hour, your mind is not necessarily at the right place — not to mention your heart. And so I kissed my wife goodbye with a bit of a grumpy attitude. Which she picked up on, obviously, which consequently had run out the door even faster. You see, I married a smart woman.
And now the cat avoids me. Her cat: he’s smart too.