Okay, I've got the frock, got the man... got the guy to bring the papers, it's all sorted. Finalised the numbers, faxed off the menu, programmed the iPod, waxed the legs... and it's not saturday that scares me, I think it's going to be a hugely fun night. It's the fifty or sixty years after that.
He's my hero, and I'm his sweetheart, and I'm not even thinking about how monumentally screwed up I am otherwise, because that would give me the idea that maybe it's not so wise, maybe we're rushing things a bit... I should sort things out, I shouldn't bet our lives on who I think I am now.
Maybe all I need is reassurance from a person who has been there, and can just pat me on the head.
* takes a deep breath *