A long time ago today…oh, a lifetime ago, really, today….I was to marry a really, really swell guy who I thought would make the most wonderful of husbands and make me the most happiest of wives.
There was no marriage proposal. Just an odd look that swept over his face one day after just having gone shopping together (a weekly ritual we always did together) at the local grocery store. I questioned him. His response?
“It’s time we got married.”
And that was that. Swirling down the drain were the long daydreams of how he was going to propose. No fireworks that spelled out my name and his intentions. Nor were there any further possible chance of a romantic hot air balloon ride with champagne and romance. No Jay Leno guest appearance (don’t ask…long story). No basketball scoreboard proposal, no bended knee, no tears. Zip. But I? I was getting married.
Or maybe not. Because exactly one month from our “day”, he announced that he needed time. Apparently the “time” was to see how well he connected with a gorgeous model/dancer that majored in communications and, “…really got [him] to open up…”
They connected well, unfortunately (or fortunately for me if you look at it my way). And it’s just too bad that she’s such a nice girl because I would’ve really liked to hate her. But I don’t. Not even him. On the contrary, he’s one of my better friends.
But each year, March 9th comes and goes. And each year, I pause and reflect on what March 9th would’ve meant to me and what it still means to me (newfound independence, a new life and heck, the possibility of a real marriage proposal). My first March 9th, I rented a hotel room, hooked up with a cutie, drank lots and lots of wine and well…made a really good effort at forgetting the date. And each succeeding March 9th, I find myself a little less drunk, a little more aware, a little less manic and just a little less heartbroken, like today.
I’m telling you girl.. You could write a best seller.. Then you’d be filthy rich and get married, drunk, laid, whatever all on the March 9th’s for the rest of your life.. Hell.. You can do it all on the 9th, 10th and 11th.. Why not!!!
Comment by Helen — March 12, 2007 @ 11:15 am
Yeah, why not? I could title the book, “Chronicles of the girl in second.” …who really should be second to None.
The summary on the backside of the book will read something like, “…share her constant tears, surprising joys, and somewhat predictable heartaches of her life in 2nd place (and sometimes even third and fourth and fifth…). Laugh with her on her trials and tribulations and the journey of finding her way, discovering her inner strength and her coming to understand the other voices that waged battles in her mind and throughout her life.
Ha! Oh, what’s that Helen? They usually put “those” in the mental asylum? Can I have paper and pen?
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