The Wedding and, finally, The Blurt Revelation

So there we were, in all our finery, about sixty of us, waiting, watching the door, anticipatory, supping on our champagne, all sophisticated-like. I wore sequins. Lots and lots of them. And sweet little diamante earings. And eye shadow. It was An Occassion you see. Deserving of everybody's finest. My love looked amazing. And how lovely to go to our first wedding together.

We were squashed into a smallish room because The Weatherman blessed the happy couple with some beautiful rain, necessitating a move in from the courtyard outside. Lucky the bride it rains on and all that, except we need to modernise it slightly, and get it up to speed... Lucky the grooms it rains on. The room was full. Of people. And love.

And then, the music changed and there they were - fabulously gorgeous, blue-silk-tied and black-suited, looking more handsome (both) than any childhood prince I'd ever imagined. And glowing, with love, that coursed its way through the already love-filled room. Incredible. A beautiful ceremony, my one tissue not nearly enough. I always cry at weddings and never remember to bring tissues. Thank goodness for C remembering. Poor thing had to make do with one, being kind enough to give the other to me, thus allowing me to keep my dignity and not have to wipe snot on my sleeves.

The reception was gorgeous - delicious food, lovely people, incredible speeches. All of them. It is seldom that you find every speech at a wedding is good. There is normally (at least) one that drags on, or has cringeworthy inappropriateness. Not this wedding. They were all carefully thought out, funny, short enough and, again, so filled with love.

We sat at a table with a fantastic set of people. A gay couple to my left - gentle, sweet boys, the kind I'd like to invite over for dinner (if they didn't live so far away). They seemed to have a wiseness about them. Next to them, the youngster, checking his phone every five minutes (at a wedding!). He was aghast with horror at my challenge for him to try not having his phone for a week. Next to him a wonderful Fag Hag and her Fag - beautiful cleavage in a fantastic lace dress, foreheads as smooth as a baby's, both of them. Botox parties - they have Botox parties in The Big Smoke. Seriously. They all get together at somebody's house and the doctor comes and injects them all. My turn to be aghast. It's a different world up there in The Big Smoke. And then the Robbie Williams lookalike.

Food, wine, more food, they met on Facebook. My first Facebook wedding, my first wedding with my love, my first wedding with two boys doing the wedding-ing. And all so fabulous.

Then there was 'gift time', when each guest got a feather boa, and the dancing began with the following announcement: "The first dance is for everyone." Brilliant. And even brillianter (poetic licence - my blog, my vocabulary) music. The dance floor was full. Every. Single. Person. Was on it.

My highlight? When the groom (A) stood up and said his speech, a beautiful, heartfelt declaration of love. He had been nervous of his Dad's reaction you see. His Dad had accepted that his son was marrying a man, and come to the wedding, but I think he was still worried. It's one thing to be accepting of your child's sexual preference, but quite another to be fully exposed to him kissing a man, in front of you. And fifty other people. Well, mid-speech, he spoke about just such things, and of his Dad, and his Dad stood up, walked over to him, and hugged him. Awe-inspiringly beautiful moment.

It was just the kind of wedding that inspires faith in humanity. And reinforced my belief that love doesn't see gender. Or race. Or religion. Or any of those other things that people use to try and quell it. It just doesn't have any boundaries. Or stipulations. Or rules. And we should just be so grateful if we are the lucky creatures who have it. It is SO precious.

Which brings me to my revelation, finally. Seeing the openness, and joy, and beauty of their love has brought me to this, exact point. Where I feel like I can say it.

My love is a girl. A wonderous, beautiful, amazing woman. I am, quite possibly, the luckiest girl in the world, to be loved by her. There is more to all of this, of course, which I may (or may not) bring up. It is not a lifestyle either of us has openly embraced before, and not really something we have chosen (honestly). There is a lot of angst and uncertainty and complication involved, but we both believe you fall in love with a person, and not a gender. And we did.

Phew.