I’m not sure Lina realises how enormous this question, among a sea of enormous questions, is. ‘How did you know?’
‘How did I know what?’ She’s being patient with me, I can tell. That calming teacherly nature that I think is just Lina through and through.
‘That it’s not important to you?’ My throat feels tight, like I’ve just swallowed a load of chips when I’m dehydrated. ‘I thought… Isn’t it, isn’t that important for a lot of people?’
‘Oh,’ she says, and I’m relieved that nothing seems to have changed in her manner. ‘Well, ever since I was a little girl, when I dreamed of my future of getting married, I was never particularly fixated on it being a man. It just didn’t occur to me to think much about that.’
She doesn’t seem upset that I’ve asked, but I suddenly feel hot all over. ‘You didn’t think about it?’
‘It’s hard to explain really,’ she says, leaning back on the seat. ‘I think when I talk to some people they have a very fixed view on their physical type, like who they are attracted to. But I’ve never had a type. I don’t quite see that as important to me. It doesn’t mean it’s not important if it’s important to you. Like, let’s be clear, it doesn’t make me more evolved.’ She says this part with a smile. ‘But for me to be attracted to someone, I don’t think it’s that important.’
‘Have you… dated women then?’ Why does that feel wrong to say? I know we’re on camera, but gay people exist. I’m an ally, for God’s sake. I need to get a grip.
‘Someone I dated as a teenager came out as trans when she was older, and looking back, I think we both kind of understood that relationship to be queer,’ she says with complete calm. ‘And my last regular dating situation was with a non-binary person.’
‘But you came on here?’ I say, trying not to sound totally confused. ‘A show specifically about marrying a man.’
‘Oh yeah, but that’s because of the Yes,’ she says, as though this is a totally normal thing to say.
But then, given how this conversation is going, who am I to say what is normal or not?
‘The… Yes?’
‘I was doing this thing all last year, sayingyesto whatever came across in unexpected ways. My friend Geena did a reading for me, and there were lots of the expected cards – Hanged Man, Four of Cups, you know – the cards were telling me that something new was coming and I should grab it.’
‘So you applied because of tarot cards?’
‘One of the producers slid into my DMs on my work account and invited me to have an interview. I think I skipped a few steps because of it. They said they wanted a good mix.’ She shrugs. ‘I suspect that means diversity of their contestants and they didn’t have anyone else Chinese yet. Or a tarot reader. Anyway, when that happened, I was right in my Yes period, so I went for it.’
That sounds so much more magical than my reality. I applied toWedded Blissat two in the morning after my third wedding in a row inonesummer. All my uni girls are married now. We’d been flatmates and therefore friends, and, well, I’d never needed to look beyond them. Harriet and I both didBiology, Nettie and Yolly both did languages, and we spent every other waking moment together. A perfect quad. And, over time, that quad inevitably became a… octagon? Mike and I were still together from high school, Harriet met Rob in Freshers’ Week, Peter worked at the publishing house Nettie did her first internship at, and Yolly and Benjamin work at the same primary school together. When Mike and I broke up, our group became a… septangle? I have no idea about shapes. The three of them were all so coupled up, and fate never intervened for me in the same way. Which is why, after watching Harriet get married at a perfectly dilapidated barn with cottagecore chic, I lay alone in my hotel double bed, filling out an application form. I’d love to be able to blame alcohol, but I had been so worried about making sure the whole wedding went without a hitch, that I didn’t drink a drop.
I think I’d have preferred it if this romantic magical story had felt more like my choice, and less like desperation.
‘And yes, it might mean now I end up with a husband,’ Lina continues. ‘But who knows what life will bring. Not every relationship is forever, and that’s fine with me.’
I manage to laugh, despite the squirming of my insides. ‘I don’t think we’re supposed to imply marriage isn’t forever on here.’
Lina smiles. ‘Maybe not, but I’m not being cynical. Just realistic. People come into our lives for all sorts of reasons, some of them make a home in it with you. That’s the beauty of life, sharing it with someone.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ I say, assuming it must be.
I try to stop fiddling with my dress, but that turns into pressing my nails into my skin instead. My body feels alive with confusion.
It’s a very weird feeling, the sudden understanding of how other people are just out there living their lives without analysing every moment.
Most people don’t understand what masking is, and when they do they presume it’s literal – a mask you wear. And it kind of is, in a way.
What they often don’t understand, in my experience, is that mask has been built from countless hours of research. Not just trial and error and making notes then adjusting, but literal research: pouring through magazines, books, television shows, interviews. Seeing how people talk about themselves or understand the world. I can’t tell you how many memoirs I’ve read. I’ve been learning, gleaning, assessing what information I should take with me and incorporate into the palatable version of Carys I present to the world, whether it be a turn of phrase to add to my small talk script, or a way of sitting that seems elegant.
The worst part is that you worry talking to people who don’t get it might think it’s manipulation, or that itismanipulation, so you don’t talk about it. But you don’t know how else to be, either.
No one gave me the handbook on how to be a person. All I have is the one I cobbled together myself.
And Lina has shone a very bright light on a set of rules and expectations I thought were canon to all people. Born this way, straight or gay, you know from birth or you don’t, and it’s all serious.
I miss what she says at first because I’m so deep in this thought spiral, but I catch it when she repeats, ‘Is there a reason you asked me?’
In truth, I don’t know. And I don’t know why she’s asking me. But then, why was I so curious?
