Friday I became engaged.
My boyfriend of two years took me to the house that we are in the process of purchasing after dinner, had electric candles lit and lining the sidewalk up to the door and proposed right there on the front porch. I was completely in shock and cried hysterically.
Of course I said yes.
It's a very strange feeling, looking down at the ring on my finger and realizing, "Wow, I'm going to be someone's wife. I'm going to have a husband!" Never in a million years would I have ever thought I was going to get married.
Before I met my now fiance, I was the notorious "Lone Ranger." The hard, sometimes cold, crass, asshole friend that every group seems to have. She could drink the men under the table, cuss like a sailor, spout off disgusting jokes that could make the most perverted blush, and never seemed to take relationships seriously.
That was me, and I played the role well.
After growing up and hearing over and over that I needed a man to complete me, make me happy, and to take care of me, I started to become a little resentful. I set out to prove that I didn't need a fucking man to do anything for me!
While most girls my age were planning their dream weddings or popping out babies, I was working 50 hours a week, paying my own bills and joking with my friends that if my vibrator could mow the lawn, I'd be all set! It was my life, I made it, and I enjoyed it.
But, as most things do, it all changed in a flash.
I met him. He was hilarious, loved the same music and movies, was just as outrageous and crude as I was and had the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.
I was smitten.
He sent me flowers, wrote little poems, stayed up until the wee hours of the morning just to make sure that I got home from work okay. We would spend our weekends drinking, sharing secrets, listening to music, and having the most mind-blowing sex I had ever experienced.
It came as a complete shock, but I was falling in love with him. I had never been in love before, nor I had never allowed myself to, so this was a brand new experience. It was nothing like how it's described in books or the media. It was the most raw, painful thing I had ever felt, but it was so natural I couldn't help but embrace it. My heart literally ached and my breath caught in my chest whenever I spoke about him.
And it scared the hell out of me.
I had never allowed myself to be vulnerable, how the hell did this happen!? I had severe trust issues due to traumatic experiences in grade school (a story for another day, I'm not strong enough to write that one yet), but somehow it was so easy to open up to him, because he was broken just like I was. But we fit together perfectly, our burned, stomped on, self-deprecating pieces fit. He makes me feel beautiful and I make him feel strong.
And 2 years later, I am still as in love with him as the first time he kissed me.
It's still sinking in, but I couldn't be happier to be his wife and I couldn't (literally) imagine living the rest of my life with someone else.4 Comments