Learning Curve | Joanne

Lessons in Love

"As many of you here know, I didn't have much luck in the girlfriend department growing up. I was a lanky, skinny kid, who grew into a lanky, skinny adult with a kid's face. I didn't grow armpit hair until I was 17 and, even then, I still looked like I should be wearing a blazer and carrying around an enormous backpack with the other year sevens.

Because of that, I didn't have a lot of confidence in myself. I wasn't as big as the other lads, not as muscular. Definitely not as tall. Over time, I questioned whether the reason I was still single was because I wasn't good enough in some way.

Slowly, though, I learned to like myself more and more. I used my talents and ended up doing something I never thought I'd do. I built a business from scratch, talked to a camera and posted it on the internet and -suddenly- people knew who I was. However, still no girlfriend. Nobody stuck around.

Then, in 2018, I made the crazy decision to learn to dance. Not in a private studio or a little class like a normal person. No, I decided to learn to dance on the biggest TV show in the country. Luckily for me, I was paired with the most incredible teacher. Someone talented, patient and kind. Someone... someone who seemed to understand me.

It took a while, I won't lie, to realise that my feelings ran deeper than just a really solid friendship. Pushing aside the doubt in my mind and taking that first step- asking her out on a date- was huge for me. Luckily for my self-esteem, she said yes. And it was the start of something I knew from that first dinner date would be very, very special."

Joe took a moment to pause, looking across at Dianne and smiling softly, before turning back to his paper.

"I missed out on a lot of things, I realise now, because I hadn't dated anyone in so long. Dianne was patient and understanding. She helped me to understand how a girl's emotions work. How 'I'm fine' doesn't mean she's fine. How important it is to listen, properly, and not just not along because you might end up agreeing to things you don't know about until they happen."

A number of the men in the room seemed to glance at their partners, nodding and chuckling. The sound rumbled across the room for a moment before Joe continued.

"Dianne and I laugh every day. About stupid stuff, usually. Dianne has shown me how important it is to laugh at yourself. How, by accepting your flaws, you feel lighter and more comfortable in who you are. We never stop laughing. Dianne is the person who says 'yes' to crazy things, just because it might be funny. She's the person who keeps me on my toes, fills my house with reptiles just to see what I do. The girl who hands me- true story- hands me a tampon and sits back while I launch it across the room like a rocket.

I feel like Dianne has helped me to grow as a person. I am stronger with her. More confident. More certain of who I am than I have ever been. Than I could ever have been without her. The connection we have is so special, and so important to me. Dianne makes me feel like I can do anything. No question is too stupid. No idea is too crazy. No mountain is too high.

It took me a while to realise that what I was feeling, this invincibility, this confidence, was a result of everything else Dianne makes me feel. I was unsure at first, scared, of the overwhelming sense that this girl, this crazy, red-haired Australian dancer, was someone I could no longer live without. It took time for me to understand that the feeling of needing to be close, of missing her, of constantly thinking about her, was love.

I have learned so much in these last few years. Silly things. Some of them small, like learning how to fill my time while I'm waiting for Dianne to get ready. Some of the lessons have been more useful, like how to deal with 'I'm fine', or accepting that my wardrobe would never be my own again. I've learned to recognise the kind of fear that only comes when you find someone who might as well hold your whole heart in their hand, the fear of them being hurt, the need to make that person smile every day. I realised that feeling came hand in hand with something else. Something I don't think I'd ever really felt before: love.

On our journey, I have learned what love is. I know how it makes me feel. I know that it makes colours brighter, it makes music louder, it makes my heart race and plunge and skip a beat. It makes me feel like I am more myself with Dianne by my side. I have someone who I want to be with, want to cherish and care for and laugh with, every day for the rest of my life. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the most important lesson I have learned.

So, please be upstanding and please raise your glasses. To my beautiful bride, the woman who taught me to dance. The woman who helped me to laugh. The woman who, by some miracle, showed me what love is. To Dianne."

Joe raised his glass, smiling at his wife, who wiped a tear from her eye, careful not to get mascara on her beautiful, white lace dress.

The rest of the guests echoed Joe's, taking a sip from their glasses. Sitting back down, Dianne reached out and took her husband's hand in her own, resting on his thigh.

"Did I really help you learn all that?" Dianne asked.

Joe nodded. "You did. And more. But they don't need to know about that" he gestured to the guests, causing Dianne to laugh. "Anyway, everything I said was true. I love you so much."

"I love you too. I can't wait to learn even more with you."

The guests were busy having their glasses re-filled by the waiting staff, chatting amongst themselves. Joe smiled. "Maybe it's time I taught you a few things?"

Dianne shook her head. "I don't need to learn anything."

Joe's eyes widened. "Uh, yes you do. We could start with spelling? You spelt 'Joseph' wrong the other day. At least Sugg is easier than Buswell."

Dianne rolled her eyes. Grinning at her husband, a glint in her eye, she whispered. "How do you spell divorce?"

Joe gasped. "Rude! We've only been married four hours!" He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Maybe you can teach me to be less bothered about it? That's a good compromise."

"True" Dianne said with a nod. "My nan always used to say that compromise is what builds a long-lasting marriage."

"Can you spell compromise?" Joe asked, taking a sip of his champagne, his eyes daring Dianne.

"I can actually. It goes F-U-C.."

"Ssh!" Joe shook his head and chuckled. "You're ridiculous. Just for the record, I 'compromising' love you, Mrs Sugg."

Dianne tilted her head, silently asking for a kiss. As Joe pulled away she smiled. "I 'compromising' love you too."