Ive watched her life play out like a farcuckedup sitcom, and I cant help feeling a mix of pity and amusement. Felicity was a proper oldfashioned lass who longed for marriage. Nowadays most girls arent keen on settling down why haul a whole pig into the house when a single banger will do? And bangers of every sort and size seem to be everywhere these days. Living together without a ring is even encouraged now; its not a scandal like it once was. Back then you still heard talk of honour, pride, decency and all those quaint notions that seem pointless today.
Even the classic lazy hero, Mr. Bennet, is no longer cast as a villain after all, the estate keeps sending him regular stipends! A rentier, indeed. If you hand a smartphone to a bloke like Ian Ilyich, hell instantly be hailed as a successful vlogger whos made something of himself. As for family life, the rule now is do as you please: meet up in hotels, rent rooms by the hour the worlds full of odd inventions. Theres even something called a guest marriage where you skip the registry altogether. Who knows what a partner might do after the vows? In the old days a stray sock or a botched cabbage soup could be a tragedy; now the real horrors are childish immaturity, mumisms and a chronic habit of saying nothing to see here among the lads. And that phrase, besides flaunting ones own looks, is a favourite of many a lady.
Both sexes now have endless demands not just bread and spectacle. Eat your own bread, they say. And, of course, theres the constant shopping.
Felicity was a pleasant exception. She was attractive without any of the modern plastic tinkering, welleducated with a respectable degree, and held a good job that paid a decent £30,000 a year. Yet, for some reason, the men passing her by on the street seemed oblivious to her charms, pairing off with whoever was next in line, stumbling straight into the same old traps.
Dont think she never had suitors she was pretty, after all. It just never got to the registry office. She was approaching thirty, and back in the days of oldstyle welfare they used to say a woman was nearing the age of first motherhood nowadays that line stretches to sixty. Felicity didnt want to have a baby on her own, no matter how modern the world had become.
She also trusted horoscopes more precisely, she believed in astrological forecasts, because, lets be honest, they were concocted by clever entrepreneurs just to make a quick buck. In those uneasy times, every prediction was upbeat: On Tuesday morning youll meet a billionaire who will change your fate! So she kept a toothbrush in her bag, just in case his intentions turned serious.
She sought a partner whose zodiac matched hers. Felicity was a Sagittarius, a fire sign. The other fire signs are Aries and Leo, but Sagittarius is supposed to be the most levelheaded of the lot.
Her first great love bloomed in her first year at university an age now classified as nursery by the modern crowd. Eighteenyearold babies may not grasp much, but they do know a thing or two about where theyre headed. Sex education these days isnt what it used to be, so we can all go our separate ways now.
Then came the creative block. She had to pay for utilities, transport and food. Suddenly she discovered she had to shop for groceries herself instead of raiding the communal fridge as she once imagined. Her parents had supported her financially up to that point; shed already moved out, but two people on a modest salary just werent enough.
Her boyfriend, Dave, was taken aback. Arent you the one wholl buy the food? he asked, genuinely puzzled. Why me? she replied, eyebrows raised. But the fridge is yours and Im not the landlord, Dave tried to explain, his logic as sound as a welltuned engine. If its just that, Felicity said cleverly, Ill hand you all the duties run the household as you please! Not long after, Dave vanished, stopped saying hello in the lecture hall they shared, and left her standing there, a Sagittarius sighing at a cruel coincidence.
She mourned, of course Dave had been her first proper man. Yet youth and time do not wait. By her third year at university a new steady suitor appeared Simon, a man well over thirty, with a serious proposal: Well get married, love! Hed been divorced, but love knows no borders, right? He did love Felicity, but then she discovered Yuri, a man with no steady job. This was before the newage ailments and special operations that now dominate headlines; the country was still relatively uncomplicated. Or so it seemed. In reality, Yuris life was a constant maze of endless boss fights, absurd demands, and impossible schedules. Even when he tried to eat at home, hed lament, Im looking for a job, love, for both of us! and Felicity felt the weight of his gloom.
She suggested, timidly, Maybe you could work as a courier? Yuri puffed his chest, Im an analyst! Can an analyst be a courier? she countered. Drive and analyse, love I bought food with my last pennies yesterday. Ask mum! he snapped. Ive been telling her about temporary difficulties for two months! Time is a long thing, he quoted Mayakovsky, flashing a smug grin. Dont ask me to eat then! Felicity retorted, adding, Times have changed get a move on! She was sharp as well as erudite.
Yuri, a Capricorn, is supposed to be diligent and reliable a perfect excuse for her to keep believing in horoscopes. The third suitor, Len, was also an astrology fan; they met on an astrological forum and their chats turned into genuine affection. Yet Len kept insisting on calling their signs zodiacs in a peculiar way. Why? Felicity asked, Why do you keep mangling the word? Oh, come off it, he laughed. Its funny! Hed pepper his speech with nonsense like Snoodurka or Sturvadesa, which he thought made him witty at his fortyone, but Felicity, now twentysix, found it increasingly irritating.
Both had solid jobs, were free to date, and Len even had an adult son from a previous marriage. At first Len was shy, then he relaxed and went all in. A scandal erupted at a family gathering when Felicitys grandfather, a retired MI5 officer, heard Len refer to the Soviet revolutionary Dzherzhinsky as Jerdinsky and burst into raucous laughter. Jesus, Mary! the old man shouted, his Polish roots evident, Get out, you blithering fool! The scene unfolded during what was supposed to be a formal engagement announcement.
Len turned out to be a Taurus earthsign like Felicitys Capricorn friend, and Tauruses are famously touchy. Thats when Felicity bumped into Peter, a man without a single irritating trait. Divorced, childless, handsome, reasonably welloff, educated, with a decent onebed flat, thrifty yet slightly miserly he was a Virgo, another earth sign noted for carefulness and frugality. Perfect for a domestic life, she thought.
They filed the paperwork, Peter moved in, and he asked Felicity to register him the modern way of saying add him to the electoral roll. Why? Felicity asked. Youre already on your own address. I get it, if you had no registration at all, youd be nowhere. But now? Peter replied, We love each other, were a family, everything should be shared! It reminded her of an old joke: Write my name on your flat, please! Oh, sorry, I started the wrong way do you believe in God? Yet love was the starting point.
Fine, Felicity said after a pause, Youve spoken well of love, family and sharing, so Ill register you, and youll register me. Where? Peter asked. In my flat everythings shared now! But you dont live there! he protested. If thats the only hurdle, lets rotate: a month in mine, a month in yours! she suggested, though she knew she was still left with a hollow feeling, a doubleempty situation.
Peter fell silent; nothing clever came to mind. He hadnt anticipated this snag. He had no real retort. So? Felicity pressed, eyeing his onceimpressive face. Sounds reasonable! She added, Whats the harm in putting a stranger on your lease? If he could register with his wife, maybe something would come of it. His flat was a tiny onebedroom, the first wife having gone to the other side. Peter turned out to be painfully greedy and mercenary.
Both sat there, unsure how to proceed. The old trick of pretending nothing happened wouldnt work now. Felicity slipped from the kitchen to the sitting room while they dined, leaving Peter to untangle his own thoughts. After about fifteen minutes, he approached her and, as if nothing had changed, asked, Shall we go to the cinema? Lets, she replied, and he sighed with relief hed already paid a deposit for a restaurant reservation.
She added, So, will you register me, Pete? I dont think we finished that bit. He looked away, stumbled, and left. She didnt stop him at least they didnt spend a fortune on a wedding, and the conversation died out before they even reached the registry.
Is this how it goes for everyone? Some do get married two of Felicitys three close friends did, though one lasted six months and the other a year. The third, like a joke, drifted along slowly. Felicity, too, ended up cohabiting with a few civil partners for over a month each, and love was there, albeit more in deeds than in grand feelings.
As the saying goes in a lessfriendly nation, no bad people? Even though she never met an Aries, every man seemed a shade of the same herd. It hurts, sure, but not fatal, dear Felicity. By the time she crossed thirty, the urge to marry faded. Shed been promoted at work, swapped her grannys tiny flat for a decent twobedroom, bought a foreignmade car to replace her battered old one, and took a short holiday. She concluded that life was working out nicely.
Today, the childbearing window stretches to sixty, so she could still have a baby for herself if she wanted. And the market is flooded with bangers of every sort. All in all, the modern Englishwomans path may be winding, but its hers to walk, and Felicity finally seemed content to walk it at her own pace.
