My future Husby and I were preparing for our wedding.
It had been a painless process to this point.
We were standing in the Men's Wear shop.
The best one in Lethbridge.
Husby-to-be was dressed inn a new suit.
Spiffy. (real word)
He looked fantastic.
It was the 70s.
Styles were . . . unusual.
I loved this new, light-blue suit.
I thought it would look fantastic with a dark blue shirt and a light tie.
Now, I should explain here that Husby-to-be had spent his whole life, and particularly the last two years in a dark suit, white shirt and dark tie.
He never noticed how the rich and famous and photographed were dressed.
Never caught a glimpse of the 'fashion' ads.
Dark suit, white shirt and dark tie were what a young man wore.
Every young man.
His wife-to-be was just a touch more daring.
I had seen the fashion ads.
Had glanced through the Movie Star magazines.
I knew Husby-to-be would look amazing in a light suit, dark shirt and light tie.
Like the men in the Godfather.
In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have mentioned that.
I had gotten him into the suit.
But there, all progress had stopped.
He stared suspiciously at the dark shirt I was holding up.
And the light tie.
Finally, he uttered the words that every husby-to-be learns, sooner or later, NOT to say.
Those fateful words that draw a neat line between pre-marriage days and post-marriage days.
“I'll ask my mom what she thinks.”
I'm sure the look on my face spoke volumes.
Because he immediately recognized he had said something wrong.
He wasn't sure what, but . . . definitely wrong.
He did wear the light suit.
But with a white shirt and dark tie.
All totally without any input from his mom.
Compromise at its best.