I guess I’ll be going to the States, then.
Is Mercury still in the microwave? The vibes seem a bit off.
When the boyfriend told me his parents were planning to visit the States on their annual holiday overseas, and they invited us to go with them, I immediately worried about letting people down.
As an overachieving Millennial, imaginary external validation always had a strong pull on me.
I made a deal with the Universe that I had one year to do the adulting thing in Australia. Going on holiday while unemployed did not fall into the things-a-responsible-member-of-society-did category.
Me: “Thanks but no thanks. I didn’t come down here to escape again to the other side of the world in a constant running-away-from-responsibilities motion.”
The boyfriend: “I haven’t been to America in years and you’d love Disneyland. My parents would pay for airfare and accommodation because you’re family. And you don’t have to take leave from a new job either. It’s perfect timing. If you’re not going, then I won’t go either, of course. Just, think about it, please?”
When I mentioned the offer in a transatlantic phone call with my mother, she sounded more excited than I was. I didn’t even get to the part about the ethics behind my made-up contract and she was already asking if I had the right sneakers to pack for all the walking and sightseeing I’d be doing.
I guess I’ll be going to the States, then.
The colour of my lipstick? Oh, it’s the blood of my ex-boyfriends.
When I told my girlfriends at home that I’d be going to Las Vegas, the very first thing they asked was if the boyfriend and I would be getting married in front of an Elvis impersonator. I laughed.
I’ve always liked to think my relationships had an aura of mystery. Most of my friends who had been introduced to my ex-boyfriends never saw them again after that first meeting. Mainly because said exes were not Italians and just visiting, or maybe I turned them into vampires who could not set foot in Italy because of garlic and holy water? Who knows.
Funnily enough also his friends insinuated we were going to Vegas to get married. That was the cause of one of the first pistachio fights between me and the boyfriend.
It became a habit for them to chant ‘Green Card Wedding’ whenever I mentioned my Visa, and the idea of us going to Vegas was almost evidence. Again, I laughed because the idea of a wedding for bureaucratic reasons was even sillier than the vampire theory. At that point, we hadn’t even said ‘I love you’, we definitely weren’t getting married.
But the boyfriend never laughed when weddings were mentioned.
Not a big deal, you’d think, how often do people talk about weddings, after all? The answer was: a lot, when you’re in your twenties and all your mates are couples getting married one after the other. It was a pandemic!
One day, while packing, the boyfriend performed a pistachio exit after receiving yet another ‘Green Card Wedding wink wink’ text in the group chat. I thought I did something wrong in asking the girls for their opinions on what dress I should pack for Vegas. Perhaps he was not comfortable with me sharing a photo showing his parents’ house in the background. Maybe he was jealous of me being so close to his friends. Did he already say he didn’t like that dress? Were we breaking up?
In a previous relationship, my ex would throw literal tantrums whenever he was not the centre of attention. The current unsettling situation was bringing back familiar patterns and I was bracing myself for the worst when I asked the boyfriend if I upset him.
Getting married was not on my to-do list, but did the boyfriend know that?
My parents divorced when I was young, and we all know what that does to people’s perspective. I grew up around examples of unmarried people, and stubborn feminist friends. As a result, I was never the romantic type and did not dream of a fairytale wedding.
Even the wedding scene in Twilight, when I was most vulnerable, couldn’t make me change my mind.
He finally confessed thinking the whole ‘Green Card wedding’ inside joke started with me. He must have had an out-of-body experience and freaked out seeing this twenty-something migrant looking for a better life in Australia, moving in, and telling him what to do with his life.
Often, especially in relationships, logic goes out of the window. He probably forgot that he was the one who invited me to move in and convinced me to go to America. The end-date of my VISA was also very far away and I was under no pressure to find a way to stay.
Associating me with Vegas must have been a red flag indicating opportunistic trickery, or losing his boy autonomy. I am not blaming his conclusions. After all, I always laughed when friends implied we were going to Vegas to get married, and never once said ‘Please God No!’ to avoid hurting his feelings.
Let it be known: if I wanted to get married, I would pick my ideal ring and propose myself.
In the end, I had to keep a straight face and remind him that we were on the same team, him and me, not his mates and me. I reassured him that I did not start the rumours and that we were still in the very early stages of the relationship. No hidden agendas! I promised that I would never mention Elvis, ever again.
This happened so long ago that I almost didn’t think about writing about it, but when I read this article from
’s trip to Vegas and relationship expectations, I decided to share some of the more vulnerable sides of my Aussie experience.
Directly from the archives, please enjoy this authentic photographic evidence:
"Maybe I turned them into vampires who could not set foot in Italy because of garlic and holy water? Who knows." This line has me laughing out loud 😂
We are definitely related - and related to our aunt.