Arranged Marriage (Humanized Derpy)

When you were 5, your parents arranged a marriage to a 'very special girl'. You are now 21, and it is the day of your marriage. Derpy Hooves is your bride to be.

What do you say to her and/or your parents?

>You dreaded this day
>You partied harder than anyone in college
>Slept with anything that came your way, hot chicks, fat chicks, ugly ones, pussy was pussy
>Because you knew that the day you turned 21 you'd have to marry someone you never met
>And you wanted to be prepared for the worst
>But here you were
>In your tux, standing at an altar
>Watching the blond walk down the aisle
>Bouquet in hand, veil covering her face
>Long flowing white dress
>You wondered if she had the same philosophy you did, and if white was an appropriate color
>No matter, she was normally shaped at least
>Not fat, not physically unattractive
>Might not be so bad
>She reaches you and nearly trips on the stairs
>"Sorry!" she says in a hurry, righting herself and scurrying to your side
>The priest begins the ceremony
>You can make out her face under the veil
>Cute smile, round face
>But one of her eyes is...off
>Just keep remind yourself it could be worse
>She has all her teeth at least
>Everything goes without a hitch
>Actually, there was one hitch, you and this woman
>Least she had a name now
>Derpy Hooves
>She looked ok without the veil
>Nothing incredibly wrong minus the eye
>You give her the proper kiss for a wedding
>A wedding of tradition and necessity, not love
>She still blushes
>That may have been her first kiss
>Hard to imagine waiting this long
>Rest of the day is quite uneventful
>This wasn't a normal wedding
>No big party or crazy reception where you dance and get nuts on the euphoria of being with the girl of your dreams
>Just a solemn sit down, meet and greet, with a little food and handshakes from the side of her family that was pleased you went through with the duty of marrying her
>Whatever deal your father made,it better have been for something worth your freedom
>Her Dad was the only one really happy
>He shook your hand and said thank you, making you promise to take care of his only daughter
>You nod and agree, not really grasping the gravity of all this yet
>Even now, as you walk with her to your hotel room in silence, you still haven't
>She's on your arm, quiet and slightly afraid
>You have no illusions as to why, she's your wife now and there's something she's expected to do
"Don't worry." You say as you press the key into the door. "We don't have to do that right away"
>"Th-thank you...I...don't know if I'm ready"
>Of course you don't know
>In all fairness, despite everything you did up till now, neither are you
>Afterall, you have to talk to her in the morning
>Can't be your usual self from college
>Once you're inside, you immediately go to the bathroom
>Undress down to your boxers and undershirt
>Been waiting all day to get out of that tux
>Splash some water on your face and take a breath
>Time to talk to your wife
>Wife
>You reach into the tux jacket and pull out a flask, sucking down the amber liquid
>Little better
>Not enough
>Maybe you have a minibar in here
>Your parents are paying for the room, might as well stick it to them and drink some $50 bottles
>You leave the bathroom
>She's out of her wedding dress, under the covers of the large bed
>Staring at you...and slightly to your left
>The rest of her is fine, just keep telling yourself that
"So...what do you do?"
>"I'm a mailperson"
>It takes some willpower to avoid asking how the fuck she drives or reads with her eyes
>Don't be mean
"That's neat"
>She smiles, the deadpan of your reply lost on her
>"What about you, Anon?"
>You explain your job
>As you expected she doesn't follow
>And you're still feeling a little annoyed at the situation so you made sure to make it sound as complicated as possible
>"Wow, you must be really smart!"
>No, a smart person would have become a lawyer and found a way out of this
>"Thanks"
>You make your way to the bed, her eyes betraying how scared she is
>But to her credit, she doesn't try to move when you get a little close
>You lay on your back
>She lays on hers
>About a half a foot between the two of you
>Today's episode of awkward brought to you by....
>"Did you see the honeymoon your parents got us? Two weeks on a big boat!"
"It's a ship. A cruise ship"
>She quiets up when you're short
>Come on, Anon, don't take it out on her
"Sorry. I'm nervous"
>"Me too"
>Only one of you is telling the truth
>You're just angry at the situation
"You have any hobbies?"
>"Oh yea!"
>She starts babbling about baking and something else
>She can cook, thats a plus
>Job, can cook
>Isn't horrible to look at
>You inch a little closer
>She does the same
>She's still yammering on about how her friend Carrot Top is always angry about her fridge
>She giggles at the end of the story you weren't paying attention to
>You give a sympathy laugh she takes for real
>Ya know, there's a certain charm to her being immune to your douchy side too
>You move a little closer
>So does she
>Your shoulders are touching now
>Still both staring at the ceiling
>You feel her hand slip into yours
>It's smaller by comparison
>Cold and trembling
>You open your fingers and let her hold your hand, giving it a squeeze
>She squeezes back
>You're both still fixated on something above you
>"Anon...Are we going to be happy?"
>You're silent
>You don't know
>Its a scary thought and you're surprised she said it after her long story about nothing
>You were almost convinced she didn't have a brain in her head
>"I'm going to be a good wife...I'm going to try. I think we can make it work if you want it to."
>You actually do want it to
>Not so much her being your wife
>Just the idea of being happy
>You've had a good time up till now you're not looking to be miserable
"How would we do it?"
>"I don't know. Does anyone?"
>When did she start sounding smart?
>Is it the shot of whiskey you took a few minutes ago?
>"I know you're a good guy, a bad one woulda done...stuff even though I'm not ready."
"What if I don't want to do 'stuff'' with you at all?"
>"You wouldn't be holding my hand all tight then"
>Fuck
>Stop making sense
>Stop making me not be 100% angry at this
"How do you like to sleep?"
>"On my side, facing this way"
>She moves, letting your hand go, turning away from you
>She shimmies back a little, her rear sticking out and brushing your hips
>It's too awkward for you to really enjoy the unintentional butt-bump
>"How about you?"
>On my stomach, facing the other way
>In the middle of the bed
>By myself
>That's what you would have said to anyone else
>You might have even said that to her 10 minutes ago
>But what she said about trying to be a good wife sticks with you
>Something about the innocent hope of it, despite her nerves being frayed to bits
>She doesn't want this anymore than you
>She just wants to make good with what you have
>So while you never answer her outright
>You turn toward her, wrapping your arm between hers
>Giving her a gently pull toward your body
>Nervousness and alcohol keep you from making this anymore awkward when her plush tush presses into your hips
>And some sense of duty you never felt before keeps your hand from grabbing her inappropriately
>Leaving just you holding the quirky, cross eyed mailcarrier
>The one who just happens to be your wife
>Her breathing slows and she's asleep before you know it
>You're left awake, a face full of long blond hair
>With a million questions running through your head
>But they all come back to the one she asked you
>Are we going to be happy?
>You don't know
>That's the frightening thing
>That's what makes you hold her hands in yours
>That's why you squeeze them one last time before resting your head down
>That's why you whisper "goodnight" before closing your eyes
>And that's why you let her soft, gentle breathing lull you to sleep
>Are you going to be happy?
>Can you make it work with this girl?
>There was no reason not to try
>You take a small breath and relax
>And right before you drift into a dreamless sleep
>You find yourself thinking one last thought
>She has really pretty eyes