Sandy Supposes....

I Do, I Consent

PROMPT: Talk Tuesday! Define "consent".

          Consent is acceptance, permission, and agreement. It's an integral part of the relationship ritual known as dating, hooking-up, hanging with, or whatever the current vernacular spouts. Permit me to portray consent as it pertained to my life.

         I could begin my story with once upon a time since it was my fairy tale, and I fancy myself as a former fair maiden. Yes, there was a pursuer, an ardent suitor, but he was not posed upon a fine steed. He preferred to ride in style in a vehicle powered by several horses. Truth be told, it was a battered British model, so the horses were a wee bit cantankerous, and loud. Anyway, my admirer followed me without my consent. Technically, I was stalked. Most afternoons after school, this would-be boyfriend drove on my bumper, ( well, in reality it was my ass 'cause I was on foot), for the entire two mile route to my home. Oh, he was persistent. I refused all his repeated offers of a ride. On the rare occasion he could not putter after me, he sent his brother. This went on for weeks, and it became routine.

         One Saturday morning, he made a surprise move. My stalker pulled into my driveway unannounced, and approached me, my father, and my out-of-town visiting beau. After a round of greetings, I was asked if I'd care to accompany this driver to a coffee shop. Without a backward glance, I agreed, and hopped into his car. Yes, he'd worn me down, and I no longer protested. I willingly deserted my current boyfriend, and began a new relationship.

         Fast forward to our engagement... We both consented to this next step without hesitation. We discussed forming an alliance to our mutual satisfaction. Plans were discussed, and not all were accepted. At this point, the mothers became involved with their 'suggestions'. I reluctantly bowed to my mother's wish, and I agreed to wear a veil with a long train. My mother-in-law-in-waiting wished for me to carry a horse shoe in my bouquet. For her it was a nod to British custom that promised good luck, so, how could I refuse? Many of my relatives wanted to partake of the festivities in actual stand up roles, so I accepted a bulging bridal party of twelve. A family friend of a friend offered to be our photographer, and we said, "Sure, why not?" It was a bridal blur, but I seem to remember a 'small' crowd of about 250 guests.... Apparently, our parents could not, or would not limit the invitations.

         The wedding ceremony itself is a commitment, a contract, a legally-binding agreement. Hubby and I vowed to honour and cherish each other 'til death do us part. There were numerous witnesses to our "I do's". At no time were we coerced with a loaded shotgun, or a court order. We willingly, and with wide eyes, gave our consent.