"It will all burn someday" he says, as he transfers money to my bank account. My dad, forever the most generous guy I'll ever know.
You know how it feels to ask for people to help you move? The pits. I would say one of the hardest parts about planning our wedding is accepting help (financially and artistically). I hate asking for it. I feel like it's worse than asking someone to load and unload your crap from old homes to new ones. Because this is an ongoing petition for the help. This is me, consistently asking to drain someone of their hard earned funds and genius talent. At least moving is usually only one day.
There are so many funny ways you sort of feel like society nudges you the second your boyfriend slides that ring on your finger. First, are you supposed to start wailing? Because I didn't cry when he proposed. I actually had the thought, "SHOULD I SAY YES IF I'M NOT SOBBING?!?" Because every movie and show and picture says I'm supposed to hold my delicate hand over my gaping mouth, the southern most part of my face that should be laced with both smile and dramatically emotional eyes while I shout, "YES!" And then we're supposed to kiss the most perfect kiss of all time and skip into the field (occupied by just the two of us) surrounding our picnic of wine and fruit.
Well I don't like wine and fields usually mean mosquito bites, so thank God Angel knows me and asked the way he did. It was perfect for us, just like I hope your proposal story was or will be perfect for you.
So I have this ring on my finger now and it's my dream ring, and it doesn't seem to be anyone else's. And I'm good with that. But every girl everywhere tells me (by doing this themselves) that when someone asks to see my ring, I should say, "oh my God it's so dirty!" Is it though? Because I wash my hands 1.5 million times a day and it looks the exact same today as it did when Angel flipped open the little black box and it was inside.
There are a thousand ways that being engaged is amazing. Just to know that you're in it that deep with someone... To start practicing what the heck "forever" even means and to know that someone else in the world is as committed to you as you are to them is a very humbling reality. But it's also really hard work. At some point you realize you won't ever have to date again and that in and of itself is a thing of sheer beauty. Still, I think as much as we all don't want to admit it, there's a certain level of freedom in "serious dating". There's the knowledge that: "Hey if you do something I REALLY don't like, I can go." But that sort of flies out the window over night and you're staring at this person and thinking: "ok, this is FOR ALWAYS?!?"
It's as comforting as it is terrifying. And there's no sweeping things under the rug. There are weeks of pent up frustration (in our case I'm putting $500 on the guess that it's almost all sexual as we're not your every day slutty 20-something's) that lead to Saturdays of more frustration (or let's call it nausea) before two weeks worth of undigested emotional vomit pours out of our insensitive, loving, understanding, and nonsensical hearts.
And you lay your soul out and there's zero question of whether or not that was a good or bad idea. There's no vulnerability hangover. It just... Is. Until you breathe in and it feels light. Lighter than it has for two weeks. And you think: "YES! Forever ultimately understood. Thank God."
So I guess it's time for me to go and stare at my Pinterest board until I'm nudged enough to do something productive for my fast approaching wedding day. Until then, I'll be the one with a question mark over my head after someone tells me my ring is, "cute".
You know how it feels to ask for people to help you move? The pits. I would say one of the hardest parts about planning our wedding is accepting help (financially and artistically). I hate asking for it. I feel like it's worse than asking someone to load and unload your crap from old homes to new ones. Because this is an ongoing petition for the help. This is me, consistently asking to drain someone of their hard earned funds and genius talent. At least moving is usually only one day.
There are so many funny ways you sort of feel like society nudges you the second your boyfriend slides that ring on your finger. First, are you supposed to start wailing? Because I didn't cry when he proposed. I actually had the thought, "SHOULD I SAY YES IF I'M NOT SOBBING?!?" Because every movie and show and picture says I'm supposed to hold my delicate hand over my gaping mouth, the southern most part of my face that should be laced with both smile and dramatically emotional eyes while I shout, "YES!" And then we're supposed to kiss the most perfect kiss of all time and skip into the field (occupied by just the two of us) surrounding our picnic of wine and fruit.
Well I don't like wine and fields usually mean mosquito bites, so thank God Angel knows me and asked the way he did. It was perfect for us, just like I hope your proposal story was or will be perfect for you.
So I have this ring on my finger now and it's my dream ring, and it doesn't seem to be anyone else's. And I'm good with that. But every girl everywhere tells me (by doing this themselves) that when someone asks to see my ring, I should say, "oh my God it's so dirty!" Is it though? Because I wash my hands 1.5 million times a day and it looks the exact same today as it did when Angel flipped open the little black box and it was inside.
There are a thousand ways that being engaged is amazing. Just to know that you're in it that deep with someone... To start practicing what the heck "forever" even means and to know that someone else in the world is as committed to you as you are to them is a very humbling reality. But it's also really hard work. At some point you realize you won't ever have to date again and that in and of itself is a thing of sheer beauty. Still, I think as much as we all don't want to admit it, there's a certain level of freedom in "serious dating". There's the knowledge that: "Hey if you do something I REALLY don't like, I can go." But that sort of flies out the window over night and you're staring at this person and thinking: "ok, this is FOR ALWAYS?!?"
It's as comforting as it is terrifying. And there's no sweeping things under the rug. There are weeks of pent up frustration (in our case I'm putting $500 on the guess that it's almost all sexual as we're not your every day slutty 20-something's) that lead to Saturdays of more frustration (or let's call it nausea) before two weeks worth of undigested emotional vomit pours out of our insensitive, loving, understanding, and nonsensical hearts.
And you lay your soul out and there's zero question of whether or not that was a good or bad idea. There's no vulnerability hangover. It just... Is. Until you breathe in and it feels light. Lighter than it has for two weeks. And you think: "YES! Forever ultimately understood. Thank God."
So I guess it's time for me to go and stare at my Pinterest board until I'm nudged enough to do something productive for my fast approaching wedding day. Until then, I'll be the one with a question mark over my head after someone tells me my ring is, "cute".
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