All Women Are Fabulous and All Men Are Pigs

By John Berks

Part 1

Wendy had daydreamed of making a speech at her best friend’s wedding.  In this fantasy, she was standing in front of the wedding crowd, enveloped by their warmth and love, while she spoke of the things she felt in her heart but could never usually say.  Now the speech was about to happen in cold reality. 

Wendy was sitting at the head table, playing with twelve small white cards, waiting for her turn.  It seemed difficult to believe the wedding was being held on a farm -- above her, two majestic peaks of the wedding marquee rose into the night, while in front of her, arrayed across the neatly clipped grass, she was surrounded by table after table of people.  The wedding guests were silent, all turned to one standing speaker dressed as a Scottish Highlander.  To Wendy, Sebastian 'Pigeon' McKinsey looked like an ancient Chieftain addressing his clan.  In contrast to this nickname, he was a large man with a powerful voice, and big, confident gestures.  The crowd nodded and laughed as he spoke, turning to each other to share their appreciation of the jokes.  But Wendy found she could only manage a thin smile.  Then Seb finished and the crowd applauded loudly as he sat down next to Wendy. 

He turned his head to Wendy and grinned at her.

‘Warming them up for you.’

She gave a feeble smile in reply and returned to playing with her cards. Her hands seemed pathetic and weak.

‘I like your dress.  Lime green is your colour.’

Wendy managed a real smile.

‘Yeah, right!  I like your dress too.’

‘Shows off my legs.’

Wendy felt pleased with this exchange -- the kind of relaxed conversational style she was hoping for in her speech. 

On the snowy tablecloth in front of her was a glass of chardonnay.  She put down her cards, reached for her glass and took a gulp.  The wine was cold and went down easily.

‘You’re doing a good job Emceeing.’

‘Why, thank you.  The next speech I’ll be introducing is yours.  Anything you want me to say?’

‘You could say the whole speech for me; I’m dreading it.  You’ve heard about the survey where some people fear public speaking more than death?  I’m one of those people.  This is going to be the world’s worst wedding speech.’

At work, Wendy was fine talking to small groups, or even large groups from all over the world if this was done via the Internet, but there was something about addressing a large social gathering 'live' that was overwhelming.

  ‘How long before I’m on?’

‘Ten minutes - though it really depends on how long Kev and Fiona take getting back to the table.’

Only ten minutes.  But she felt more relaxed talking to Seb, as if she was somehow absorbing his self-assurance.

‘How do you do it?  You look so confident.’

‘My motto for life is: "Fear Nothing".’

She emptied her wine glass, and Seb filled it again.

‘The main thing I worry about is my mind going blank, not remembering what I have to say.  That’s why I’ve made these.’

Wendy held out the deck of her precious cards.  Each was meticulously numbered, and had a series of points in small, neat handwriting. 

‘All you have to do is say what you feel.’

Contrary to her fantasy, it hadn't been an easy speech to write.  There were many great anecdotes and nice things to say about Fiona -- Fiona was fabulous.  But Wendy felt that she also needed to talk briefly about Kevin.  She wanted to say something about his good qualities, and she also wished to be sincere.  This combination had proved difficult.  Wendy had met Kevin after he had been going out with Fiona for six months -- the couple had met overseas -- and she had heard a lot about him.  The reality seemed in marked contrast to the reports.  To sum him up, Kevin was a slob.  He was lazy, messy, forgetful, thoughtless, and appeared to expect Fiona to run round after him.  Wendy strongly suspected that if Fiona had not been childless and fast approaching 40, then she would not have put up with this.  That thought, however, had not made it into the speech.

Wendy carefully put the cards back on the table, checked her watch, and picked up her wine glass.

‘How come everyone call you Pigeon?’

Seb looked out into the crowd.  ‘It's a climbing nickname.  They reckon I perch on a ledge like a pigeon.’

‘You’re into climbing?  Now I remember Kev talking about you.  He says you’re a risk taker.’

‘Calculated risks.’  Seb twisted in his chair to point more directly at Wendy.  ‘Look at a mountain.’  His big hands created a mountain in the air between them.  ‘It’s intimidating -- beautiful, but dangerous.  If I'm going to conquer it, then I have to have my rational brain turned on, I cannot even acknowledge the possibility of fear.’

His intensity made Wendy a little uncomfortable, but it took a mind of the coming ordeal.  ‘Sorry, about all the questions.  I'm getting nervous, and I think I might have had a bit much to drink.  You must think I’m weird.’

‘No, I was thinking here's someone with the style to wear a lime green dress and still look sexy.’

‘Someone who is beautiful but dangerous?’  Wendy tried to keep it light.

‘Maybe.  Look at us tonight - having a pleasant conversation over a meal and a few glasses of wine.  I can see us doing this again in more relaxed circumstances.  No worries about speeches.’

He looked different to Wendy now -- like a large predator.

‘I’m flattered, but I really don’t think this is a good time to be asking me on a date -- if that’s what you’re doing.’

‘When is a good time?  Perhaps I’m being stupid.  Perhaps I’ve had a couple of wines too many as well.  Perhaps the whole wedding thing is getting to me.  But don’t you feel the urge to do something impulsive?  To take a chance?’

‘Please Seb.  This is not the right moment.  You’re a nice guy, but you’re coming on too strong.’

To Wendy’s relief, the Bride and Groom reappeared at the bridal table.  Wendy couldn't help noticing that Kevin had spilled food onto his tie.

Fiona beamed at the Emcee and her Maid of Honour.

‘You two seem to be hitting it off.’

‘Wendy has me under her spell,’ agreed Seb pleasantly.

Wendy gave a non-committal look.

‘Way to go with the Emceeing, Pigeon!’ said Kev.  He turned to Wendy.  ‘Looking forward to your speech, Wends.  Hope you're going to take it easy on me.’

Wendy nodded.  She watched Kev and Fiona sit down along from her.  Other wedding guests were beginning to return to their seats -- it was only a matter of time now.  She reached for her cards.  They weren’t there.  Frantically, she searched the table.

‘Looking for something?’ asked Seb.

‘My cards -- I can’t find my cards.’

‘That’s because I’ve hidden them.’

Wendy turned to stare at Seb.  ‘You’ve done what!’

‘Hidden your cards.’

Wendy glared at him.

‘Why would you do that?’ she demanded.  ‘Oh, what does it matter?  Can I just have them back?’

‘That depends…’  A card appeared in Seb’s hand.  ‘Here’s one of them.  By the number in the corner from somewhere in the middle of the speech.’

He read the card with exaggerated nodding and facial expressions.

‘Very moving.’

He looked up at Wendy and his expression was hard.

‘It would be a shame if this accidentally got ripped.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

Wendy watched with disbelieving eyes as Seb held the card in both hands, elbows up, as if about to tear it in two.

‘You wouldn’t.’

Very slowly, Seb ripped the card in half.

‘You bastard!’

Seb proceeded to shred the card into tiny pieces, which he gathered up in the palm of his hand and tossed in front of Wendy.

‘Confetti,’ he said.  ‘But I think we might need more confetti than that at a wedding.’

‘What the hell do you mean by that?’

‘That was just a demonstration.  You said I wouldn’t, but I did.  Now, I’m going to tear the cards up one at time.  That is unless you can give me a reason why I should stop.’

‘You are insane!  You can’t black mail me into going out with you!’

Kev called down from along the table, his voice muffled slightly by the food in his mouth.  ‘Probably a good idea to start the speech soon, Wends.’

‘Just a couple more minutes,’ Seb called back.  He reached below the table and produced another card.  He held it up again.

The air in the marquee seemed suddenly very thin.

‘Okay, I’ll do it.  I’ll go on a date.’

‘When?  Tomorrow?’

‘Yes, tomorrow.’

‘You really want to go on a date with me?’

‘Yes, I really do.’

Strangely, Seb looked disappointed.

‘Now please, will you give me back the cards?’

Seb leaned closer, so she could feel his hot breath on her face.  ‘You’re really not much of a challenge, you know that?’

Wendy leaned away.  ‘Give me the cards.  No cards no date.’

Seb gave a little shrug, and to Wendy’s horror he stood up and began to bang on his empty wine glass with a fork.  The crowd became silent.

‘In a moment,’ announced Seb, ‘it will be my pleasure, to call on the Maid of Honour, Wendy Wells to say a few words.’

Wendy felt every eye turn to her.  She tried desperately to look composed, but she felt her hands beginning to shake.

‘I had a look at her speech notes just now…’

Seb held up the precious cards in one hand.  Wendy’s eyes were riveted to the cards.  She felt a hot flush explode over her face.

‘…and I’m afraid I’m going to have to make some adjustments.’  Seb pretended to read one of the cards, while theatrically shaking his head.  ‘You can’t say that about Fiona!’ 

With a flick of his wrist, Seb sent the card spinning across the tent.  There was laughter and applause.

‘And you really can’t imply Kev did that!’

Another card followed, then another, and another until they were all gone.

Through all this Wendy sat, unable to breath properly, but with her smile muscles contracting.  Slowly a sense of unreality came over her.  The laughter, the clapping, the dressed up people -- none of it was real.  Dimly she was aware of further applause and that Seb was sitting down.  Wendy felt very weak, but almost as if being pulled by outside forces, she rose to her feet.  Locking her knees to stop her leg shaking, and holding tight to the table she looked up.  A hundred faces turned towards her.  It was very quiet.  She looked to her left -- there was the way out.  She could make a run for it, jump over a fence, and hide in a paddock -- surely her green dress would allow her to blend with the grass.  Wendy turned back to the faces, and managed to suck down one deep breath.

‘I have known Fiona since I was twelve,’ she said, her voice surprisingly strong and clear, ‘And every year has deepened my appreciation of how completely fabulous she is.’

There was a murmur of agreement around the marquee.

 ‘I have known Kevin only six months, but even that short time I have come to realise that…’ Wendy found that she had run out of words.  Panic surged up.  And it was then she seemed to lose control of her mouth.  As if in a dream, she heard herself say, in a clear and very loud voice: ‘I have realised that Kevin is a pig.’

There was a long silence.