Author: Megan (meganh@earthlink.net)
Date: 5-28-05
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Ever wonder what goes through the mind of a man about to get married? This one you won't find in the Brian Kinney Operating Manual! Based on a Ulysses/Catch-22 style of writing


Catalyst

“Up, down, turn around; please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I walk alone to find my soul desire to go home”

I was a bit nervous, ok, well, I was completely freaked out and I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t speak (not that I had to at the moment, but anyway) all I wanted to do was bolt but at the same time I wanted to tell that voice in the back of my head to shut up, you know, the one that kept telling me to bolt and to run…

But I didn’t of course, because my feet were welded to the floor by some force or maybe it was cement or a ball and chain but of course it could never be that because Justin could never be that to me…

He is my freedom and my salvation and the catalyst of my change and that’s why I found myself on my knees three months ago begging him to never leave again, to help me commit because if I didn’t do it, I’d risk losing him forever and then I would never have that chance again, never give myself the chance because I wouldn’t be able to bear it, you know, the pain of love and of having a partner and of losing that partner and then I would always be that club-hopping frozen-in-time thumpa-thumpa of a man who was really just dead inside, and then I’d never change…

And so I asked, ok, I begged, I fucking begged him on my knees to marry me marry me marry me, dammit, Justin [!] and then he paused and then he smiled and said…nothing… so I shouted “are you going to make me ask again, to beg again? I’ll beg. I’ll beg. I’m begging” and he giggled…

So well, that’s why I’m here, standing at the altar and I’m watching him as he walks and it’s in slow motion, I swear it’s like someone grabbed a fucking t.v. remote and hit the slow motion button and that song from Moby plays in my ear, you know, the one with all the singing, well I guess they’re all kinda like that but it’s the one with the “please don’t let me hit the ground” but I don’t ever hit the ground because he’s caught me, my Justin, just like he always does…

And I’m trying to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants but to no avail and then I remember that these are the most expensive Gucci pants I will ever wear (until the fall line comes out) and so my hands hang limply at my sides because I don’t know what to do with them and then he’s here and he turns and he’s calm and he’s poised and he’s fucking beautiful and in a far off hazy corner of my mind I wonder if I need a tic-tac because I’m worried that my breath might smell but because I had swallowed (by accident, you can be assured) an entire mouthful of Listerine (and that might explain some of the stomach problems I’m having now but probably not) I don’t think my breath smells that bad…

And then the minister or preacher or bishop or a justice-of-the-peace or whatever, that man who’s about to “marry” us, no, dammit, no “double quotations”, marry, just marry, anyway he’s about to marry us and he starts to talk and as Justin takes my sweaty hands [oh, hell] in his and looks up into my eyes and I look down into his eyes and they’re blue and they’re clear and they’re perfect and, oh, God, that look, that love, and all of my thoughts seem to fall into place. I’m coherent now. I’m in love. Oh, dammit, you seventeen-year-old-high-school-student-five-years-ago, do you see what you’ve done to me? Do you see where I am? Did you ever guess? Could you have? I hope you can see me now. Thank you, fate. Thank you, Justin. Thank you.

“I do.”

And I have never met anyone quite like you before
And I've never met anyone quite like you before