Since my crappy marriage book just came out, I’m going to share some of the prenuptial story. How we met and such. Basically, what happened before marriage happened. These stories comprised a chapter in the book that was cut out…
We’ve been living together for four hundred years. (I’m measuring time in woman-approaching-age-30-who-wants-to-get-married and have a family years. This converts to roughly four earth years.)
Marriage and starting a family has been a frequent topic of conversation lately. He’d like to get married someday. I’d like to get married today.
All of our friends are either married or engaged. Many have started families. And some of them have been together for less time than we have.
We’re about to go on a romantic weekend trip to Berkeley. A bed and breakfast. A fancy dinner.
The night before our trip, my friend Dawn (who happens to be married with kids so she is most certainly an expert on this topic) says:
We spend the rest of the night dissecting and analyzing each and every sentence he has uttered the way that women always do but shouldn’t. By the end of the night I am completely convinced. There is no way he is not going to propose to me on this trip. I’m getting engaged!
Of course, I’m not going to let him know that I know. He wants it to be a surprise. Since I don’t know when during the trip he’ll propose, it still will be.
The first day I watch his every move. Is he acting weird? Does he have something in his pocket? Is it going to happen now? How about now? This would be a perfect spot by this vine, I can smell jasmine flowers!
But I also think the reverse at times. Oh dear, this isn’t a very romantic park bench. Too busy. I can hear the traffic. I hope he doesn’t do it here. Please, not here.
I act jumpy and tense. He asks me “What’s wrong?” several times and of course I say, “Nothing.”
We have a reservation at Chez Panisse the last night of our trip. It is a restaurant he has talked and talked about at length. It can be difficult to get a reservation there but we managed to get one on the upper (not as fancy) level. He is absolutely giddy during the car ride over. I can feel his excitement.
This is it! He is going to propose at the restaurant.
As we are walking up to the restaurant he turns to me and says:
Gasp! He is going to do it HERE! Right now! Before we go in the restaurant!
Huh? Oh, okay, he isn’t proposing outside.
He holds open the door to the restaurant and gestures for me to go inside.
But we have an even better reservation! This can only mean one thing! He called them and told them that he wants to propose so they gave us a better table!
He’s going to propose during dinner! Is everyone in on it? Does the waiter know? He is particularly friendly and chipper. He totally knows. Maybe he has the ring and will bring it out with the food!
I’m so excited that I can barely eat.
First course, second course and the third course flies by. I eat but I don’t taste a single thing. (Dear Alice Waters, an older, wiser and less crazy version of myself has since been back to your restaurant and I definitely tasted stuff. Divine.) Finally, dessert is on the way.
Of course he’ll propose during dessert, that makes the most sense.
Dessert arrives, and with it:
We pay and leave.
I still have a glimmer of hope. It isn’t really his style to propose in a public place. Maybe he’ll do it as soon as we get back to our room.
Only he doesn’t.
I’m devastated, mortified and embarrassed that I was wrong about our romantic weekend.
It is late and I’ve drunk too much wine.
So without warning, I collapse into a heap of tears and insecurity and I tell him everything:
He feels terrible but I’m relieved that I finally told him why I’ve been acting so odd all weekend.
Despite my humiliation and disappointment, we managed to have a good time on the drive back home to Los Angeles the next day.
(I didn’t know it then, but he had already ordered my ring. He was having it made and it wasn’t going to be ready for another week. He hoped it would be ready for our trip but it wasn’t. He could have told me. He could have ended my tears with some real reassurance other than “someday”. But he never let on. He wanted it to be a surprise.)
Thank you SO much for your support! The sales of my two books are what keeps this blog boat afloat and I really appreciate it, um, not sinking.
And for those of you super wonderful people who have already gotten your copy (messages & photos and such have been so awesome – so far it seems people like the cockroach story, the sex tent story, the DIY hot tub story and the husband versus wife chapter the best) pretty please write a review where you purchased. Reviews help little itty-bitty authors like me tremendously!
Marriage: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures is available from these places if you want a funny book to accompany your evening glass of wine. I highly recommend that pairing. Also goes nicely with a cozy blanket and a cup of tea. And with kale salad and kombucha. And with pizza and beer. And with… never mind, I’m just hungry.
Also, Amazon.com picked it as one of the best books of the month in humor:
Which is pretty dang cool.