You may have heard the news but just in case you didn’t…I’M FREAKIN’ ENGAGED! After nearly two years of epic romance with The Man, he decided to make it legit. I know- how could he possibly want to sign a forever promise with a crazy bitch like me? There is so much to do because we are getting married in 30 days, Kittens. Three. Zero. Carrie, The Girl, Marianne and I are in the throes of insane wedding planning. Think fuchsia, leopard and black skull and cross bones- it will be a fabulous honey badger production for sure! There are lots of firsts with this engagement (I may have been engaged four other times and married two). I have never registered, never had all of my friends at my weddings, never had a proper surprise proposal and never an engagement ring. I know the ring is a huge deal but what I didn’t expect is the weirdness that people puke up when they actually see the ring.
The Man is a class act. Always wanting me to feel special, loved and appreciated. Like a queen -and by all means- I am okay with that arrangement. Never one to skip on the details, he finds what he initially thinks is a perfectly me ring. A pink one that glittered and mesmerized. It was a bit too big and we could just imagine it getting lost in some ones plate of food at work so we took it to get it sized. And then he saw it- a more perfect ring. One that matched all of my jewelry and his Mom’s charm bracelet he had given to me for Christmas and one that was perfectly honey badger. Usually you don’t trade up your ring until ten years into the marriage but one day later he insisted. Who am I to tell The Man no?
Off we go to tell every one we are engaged…most people know what that means , right? If we were to show up on your door step and announce, “we’re engaged!”, you would pretty much assume we mean to each other and wouldn’t look at me and ask, “to who?”, would you? Some one did and at first I was thinking she must be tired or maybe didn’t understand us. Maybe we mistakenly said it in Swahili. We look at her and point to each other with a big “well duh!” look. Then the conversation goes from bad to nuclear in less time Nordstrom’s takes to debit my credit card for a new pair of shoes.
“Um, no. We’re quite happy about it.”
“But you’ve done it so many times.”
Scowly face and 3…2….1….BLAST OFF!
“Well, how many times have you been married?”, I ask knowing the answer is four.
Uncomfortable pause followed by a how dare you ask me that question you know one was a cross dresser and we don’t count him WTF look.
“Well….three” she says, “one of which I wish didn’t happen”.
I look at her husband and ask him if he was aware of all of this and that she regrets her marriage to him. I can only assume she meant him since he is number four and because bitch wanted to jump stupid so she sorta had it coming. He laughed and said, “like wise”. I guess I won that round because she proceeded to the ring, which wasn’t on my hand because it too needed to get sized and all I had was a picture on my cell phone to show her. So I proudly extend my hand to show off my shiny new trinket and secretly visualized me pimp checking her with it and then…
“Is that real? Where did you get it? What brand is it?”
Rude. Fucking rude. Seriously, I don’t care if it looks like it came out of a bubble gum machine- never ever ask such pissy questions. “He bought it off of a man in the alley behind 7-11. It’s called a Super Collider and it’s as real as the black eye rude people will get for trying to piss on our happy parade”. I’m guessing we shouldn’t look forward to her RSVP or gift. Maybe just a restraining order.