The Bachelor Party
When Christopher divorced his wife, he swore off marriage for good. After seven years of marriage, hed decided there was nothing good about wedded lifejust bickering, nagging, and rows.
«Chris, youre talking rubbish,» his mate Stephen insisted. «Married lifes brilliant for a blokealways fed, looked after, cuddled.» He grinned like a Cheshire cat, listing the perks.
«Dunno, Steve,» Christopher sighed. «I did most of the cooking, always hooveredthat was my job. And cuddled? My ex, Emily, had a way of cuddling me that made me want to leg it.»
His wife had been a nightmare. Nothing pleased her. Gifts? «Couldve spent more.» Holidays? Shed glare if he so much as glanced at another woman, humiliating him in front of friends.
The final straw came at her mates birthday do when she slapped him for having one too many brandies. He walked out then and there, dead set on divorce.
The split was messy. Emily fought tooth and nail, but in the end, he let her keep the flat and cartheir daughter lived there, after all. He walked away without a fuss.
Years passed. Christopher bought a new flat and car, managing the mortgage fine on his decent salary. He dated, but when women brought up settling down, he shut it down.
«No more marriage. Been there, done that.»
Everything changed at thirty-eight when he met Daisy. Pure chance, in a café. He was there with mates celebrating Stephens promotion when two lovely women took the next table. One caught his eyestriking, with deep blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light.
«Blimey, proper heart-melters,» he thought but kept it to himself.
He couldnt stop stealing glances, and she noticed, dropping her gaze each time their eyes met.
«Chris, smitten much?» Stephen teased. He missed nothing.
«Alright, yeah,» Christopher admitted, deciding to introduce himself.
«Well, get on with it!» Andrew winked.
Christopher stood and approached. «Evening. Mind if I join you? Im Chris.»
The women smiled. «Daisy,» said the one he fancied. «And Im Zoe.»
«Pleasure. Fancy a bottle of wine?»
«No thanks,» Daisy said. «We dont really drink.»
That evening, Christopher drove Daisy homehed stayed sober. Soon, they were dating, clicking straight away. Daisy had been married briefly.
«Just didnt work,» she said shortly, and he didnt pry. Neither did she about his past.
At thirty-five, childless, she worked as an accountant for a construction firm. Serious but creativeshe loved painting in her free time and dragged Christopher to galleries. To his surprise, he enjoyed it.
Mates ribbed him, but he championed Daisys talent, even if she rarely painted. Theyd go on outings just so she could sketch.
One night, curled up with his cat, Whiskers, it hit him.
«Think Ill ask Daisy to marry me,» he mused, stroking the cat. «Shes perfect.»
Whiskers blinked lazily, unimpressed.
«Right, the three of usll live together. You love her tooalways glued to her lap when shes here.»
Hed found Whiskers as a scrawny stray six years ago, mewing pitifully. Now, the smoky tom was a dignified, lazy lump. Daisy called him «too clever for his own goodjust cant be bothered to talk.»
Christopher proposed. Daisy said yes. They planned a quiet registry office do, but family and friends revolted.
«Second marriage or tenth, youre not skimping! Tightwads!»
Not wanting to seem stingy, they caved. Guest list sorted, invites sent. Then came the next demand: a stag do.
«Chris, no stag? Not on!»
«Lads, were nearly fortypractically pensioners!»
«Rubbish! Youre waving off bachelorhoodstags tradition!» Stephen bellowed.
The wedding was set for Friday, so they scheduled the stag for Wednesday.
«Plenty of time to recover,» Christopher reasoned. «Wonder if theyll hire a stripper?»
He took the week off to prep. Tuesday, he stocked up on booze, ordering restaurant platters for food.
Wednesday, he set the table just so. Whiskers, smelling prawns, perched hopefully on a chair.
«Dream on, mate,» Christopher said, relocating him. «My day, not yours.»
Whiskers squinted, plotting.
The lads arrived, rowdy and laughing. They ate, drank, debated cars, politics, work.
«Thinking of upgrading my motor,» Andrew said.
Paul bragged about his daughters volleyball trophy. By ten, they were leaving.
«Thats it?» Christopher frowned.
«Mate, weve got jobs. And wives.»
Alone, Christopher let Whiskers pinch a prawnthen another. He dozed off on the sofa, waking to find the cat sprawled on the table like a furry king.
«Cheeky sod,» Christopher chuckled.
The wedding was a riot. Marriage to Daisy? No regrets. Second time was the charm.
