Background story on me.
I was married before in my early twenties.
Shocking! That never happens! Inform the pope!Call the media!!
I was married for exactly one month per every hundred I spent on my wedding dress.
($1800 for you noseybots who just have to know everything.)
I kind of knew it wouldn't last right from the start of the wedding. No that's not a misprint, I knew waiting at the back of the church when I got pissed off when that damn organ music interrupted a funny story I was telling my maid of honor.
Also three other things that day kind of tipped me off.
1)When I winked at a cute guy on my way down the aisle
2)Then when I told my hubby to 'relax, stop being so emotional' during his speech at the reception.
3)And finally when I asked my bridesmaids if they wanted to go out to the bars after the party..um, reception.
I kind of knew I wasn't the type to get married since I was little.
I was never wanted to be a princess, I never watched the Disney movies where princesses met Mr. Wonderful and lived happily ever after.
I think of Snow White now and all I can think is 'Ditch the wanker in the snooty outfit, sweetheart. You have seven men at the perfect height for some menage et huit back in the woods'.
I am just not the normal traditional relationship kind of gal.
I've now been engaged for over 8 years now, and the only reason I am is that the frenchmen came to my work and dropped to his knee in front of all my coworkers.
"Mel, will you marry me?"from the frenchmen .
'Oooohhhh' from the collectively teary coworkers.
'Fuuuuuucking bastaaaard!!' from the inside of my brain.
I could have said only two things at that moment.
1) Uh, No!
I'm surrounded by my middle aged coworkers (myself included in that age) who have all been married for numerous years and so their hubbies are probably not hitting high up on the romantic meter anymore, so they are lapping this up like dogs to antifreeze.
(I'm not calling you dogs, ladies, you're beeyootiful!)
They're looking at me with their hands over their mouths ready to shriek with joy awaiting my response.
What do I do?
Say 'Uh, No!' then watch him struggle to get up off his knees, and shuffle off in shock and then endure the looks and whispers at work for the rest of my days there.
So I said, Whatever...
Then while he hugged me I gave him a sharp punch in the kidneys just to let him know how incredibly 'happy' I was that he had done that.
To this day the girls at work always bring up that the frenchmen was so happy that day that he was actually weak at the knees.
He and I always smile knowing just a little bit differently...
We each have a little momento from that 'happy' day
I am now stuck wearing this gold ring forever.
He is stuck having to pee a little bit longer forever.