It's always fun when your European lover is in town and he decides that he loves you so much, that he's going to propose. Yes, it's unexpected. Yes, it's exciting. You're probably thinking, Get Out! (replete with Elaine shove).
He proposes in a half-serious, half-joking way. In his underwear. While we're lounging around on my couch watching TV and munching on food.
And since it's half-joking, half-serious, he clearly doesn't come prepared with a ring. But, in a stroke of ingenuity, he thinks, why not use a ring from my jewelry box? That'll be cute, that'll be charming, that'll make it seem whimsical and spur of the moment, on bended knee, slipping a ring on my left ring finger....
Except that it's not so cute or charming or whimsical when the ring he uses is MY OLD WEDDING BAND. Yeah. My old wedding band.
There are many rings in my jewelry box. Lots of fun, interesting cocktail rings, with bright, shiny stones. There are even a couple of rings given to me by my mother, pretty and feminine antique types. And there happens to be one little ring, one little lonesome ring that's there, because I don't know what to do with it.
And I guess since I haven't figured out what the hell to do with it, Fate (that heartless bitch-ass whore) decided that she would think of something.
Somehow the nuptials.....don't seem so promising.
4 comments:
one ring to rule them all....
you should have melted the precious.
Oh yikes.
I'd say congratulations, but it doesn't sound like it'd be entirely appropriate, so I'll just not say anything.
Oh my. Thanks for the laugh. I am amazed at men and their minds, (what little they seem to have when it comes to women.) The irony of the ring situation is too priceless.
Hope this works out with your European man.
I've done some dumb shit, but nothing can top that.
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