For those who have been on a cruise before, you probably remember being assigned to a particular time and table for dinner. You may have wondered (depending on your personality) whether you had been one of the lucky couples to get a table for two, or whether you’d have to put your chummy face on and eat at the same table as 2-8 other strangers. We’ve taken 2 cruises (1 to Alaska, 1 to the Caribbean), and on both, the lavish dinners lost their appeal after a night or 2, and we soon preferred to nab dinner from the sushi carts or the pizza buffets on board. However, it’s hard to pass up the curiosity of seeing who your dining mates might be, or the notion of a meal with 4 actual courses. Lobster risotto? Crème brulee? Although the idea of it usually ends of being more elegant than the actual mass-meal that’s dished out by the hundreds, it just seems like something one has to do once or twice on board.
A week before Esposo and I were going to run off and take our marriage vows at an as-yet-to-be-determined time and places in Las Vegas, we took a short-notice cruise to Grand Turk and the Bahamas. I guess you could call it a honeymoon, though I prefer to think of it as a pre-moon. The first night we were getting our bearings, but we did find out that we were assigned to a dinner table with 3 other couples. It went by in a blur of very small talk and distraction, but by the second night, we had a better idea of the arrangement.
The first couple was from Georgia—the type that drives everyone who isn’t like them right up the wall. Bragging about their 100 acres of land, rabidly conservative, fake-baked, the wife dripping with gold and diamonds. They, predictably, immediately chose the best spot of the table for themselves—the window seats. The 2nd couple stayed well away from the 1st, and being savvy about these things, quickly sat at the places furthest away from them—the 2 aisle seats. Esposo and I sat down next to them, with 2 empty seats spacing us from the GA couple. Finally, the 4th couple arrived—late, carefree, laughing—and sat down with only a barely-perceptible moment’s hesitation in the two remaining spots.
The GA couple did not act intimate with each other at all. Instead, they were entirely concerned with trying to engage the rest of us with fake smiles, and garner adoration with their tales of other cruises, their land, their SUV, their golf, their well-oiled view of the world. I couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle at how easy it is to be a big fish in a small pond, and I whispered about the wife’s over-the-top ring to Esposo. After Esposo glanced at it, she hid it under the table for the rest of the meal.
The 2nd couple was from Kansas City, had married late in life, and had no children. Insular and shy, they were quiet and mild-mannered. I liked them immediately, and found the husband particularly entertaining, as he regaled Esposo and me with tales of his former travels. Although his wife had certainly heard the tales before, she listened with rapt attention and unquestioning worship in her eyes. When we told them that we were about to get married, they shared their own story of their courthouse marriage with us. Apparently, after they took their vows, a young county clerk had run up to them, shaken their hands, and exclaimed, “I think it’s great that people of your age can still find love and get married!” The wife was all of in her late-30’s, the husband about 50. The husband joked, “My goodness kid, what do you mean? Do you think it’s all over at age 22 if you haven’t found someone yet?!” These two odd characters had found a refuge in the other, and obviously preferred to stay in it as much as possible.
The remaining couple was somewhere in the middle—literally and figuratively—of the obnoxious ostentation of the 1st and the shrinking exclusiveness of the 2nd. They were originally from Mexico, lived in LA now and had a whopping 4 daughters at home for the week alone, all of whom were teenagers. Although they had a few stray grays in their hair, their demeanor was youthful and refreshingly laidback. I suppose having 4 daughters would have to mellow a person, as a sheer coping/survival mechanism. The husband did not speak perfect English, and had a wrinkled, suntanned face that was aged beyond his years, with teeth that were charmingly imperfect and brown, but he was quick to give radiant smiles and laughs. The wife was gregarious and well-poised to keep the GA couple occupied while the rest of chatted in peace. Whereas the 1st couple seemed mistrusting and paranoid and the 2nd couple reserved, this 3rd couple seemed generous and self-assured with each other and others.
The entire dinner remains a fascination in my mind. I tend to get so engrossed in observing others that I always forget to wonder how others might be observing me in turn. Yet, here Esposo and I were—two people who had not planned on getting married, to each other or anyone else, who had only in the past several months had a major change of heart about marriage and decided to make the commitment, take the plunge (and we’re glad we did)—amongst 3 other couples much more experienced at marriage, all of whom couldn’t have been more different from each other. I couldn’t help but wonder which couple our love and relationship might resemble down the road. Now, just a bit over 2 years later, I think about how our relationship has transformed since then, so that we probably will never be like any of them. Yet, I think of each relationship as an option on that "set menu" the ship's chefs put together each night, a possible choice set before us within the confines of the purely circumstantial.
Like the cruise menus, love and marriages have many courses. If we remain lingering too long over one course, our relationship might starve, so we must always make room for change. Sometimes there is choice as to what we might order. Other times, the menu is a set of options, none of which might be appealing to us.
Sometimes, you can hit the sushi cart or pizza buffet, and refuse to keep sitting at the more conventional table that’s been assigned to you, where the dishes are served by the hundreds.
If this is totally corny…I’ve succeeded in writing a good Valentine’s Day note :)
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