My thirtieth birthday was glorious. Wearing a lemony yellow dress and gold flats, I had a lovely supper with my mother and my boyfriend, Greg. My mother had never been to a Japanese steak house before and was terrified of the flames from the hibachi performance. It was hilarious watching her jump up from the table and run in fear across the restaurant multiple times. Poor mom!
When we got home there was a package waiting for us at the steps.
Inside the box was another box.
And then another box.
And then an envelope with a black velvet box inside that box.
It was my birthday present from Greg!
After the fun of opening the boxes I squealed, "Don't get down on one knee!" He didn't. He asked me to marry him in Swedish with our kitten at our feet and my mom watching in the background. I answered in Swedish and he kissed me and kissed me and then I spent all evening looking at the ring because I'd really wanted it.
When we got home there was a package waiting for us at the steps.
Inside the box was another box.
And then another box.
And then an envelope with a black velvet box inside that box.
It was my birthday present from Greg!
After the fun of opening the boxes I squealed, "Don't get down on one knee!" He didn't. He asked me to marry him in Swedish with our kitten at our feet and my mom watching in the background. I answered in Swedish and he kissed me and kissed me and then I spent all evening looking at the ring because I'd really wanted it.
And now I've decided that it's nice that I have a nice ring, but I never needed the ring. All I want is Greg and our cat. The ring ... is very sparkly and modern and I feel so weird wearing it because I'm not a very fancy person. It's not, as my friend Linda would say, "tacky big" or anything, but ... I have this feeling that he could have proposed with an onion ring ... and now I'm craving onion rings.
If I could wear Greg on my finger all day, I would. I would shrink him and carry him around all day and feed him snacks and keep him entertained.
Would that be any less weird?
So much grown up stuff all at once. The apartment, the cat, the engagement ring. I feel all this pressure to be the grown-up to live up to it, but I know I won't. I'll still be the girl who only does towels when we've run out and waits until the last minute to do her taxes. I stlll eat too much at parties and then feel sick all week. And I would always rather watch cartoons and musicals than Law and Order or some more modern cultural reference.
And my favorite outfit will always be pajamas and no socks instead of a dress with crinoline.
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