For most women, the day your true love (or true love at the time) proposes marriage to you, it is supposed to be one of the greatest moments of your life. This is true for many people but for this unfortunate blonde, it was one of the worst experiences I have ever had. From start to finish, this "happy moment" marked a period of my life I wish I could erase. Since I am not that powerful and I don't have the ability to change the past, I have to do the only thing I can with this mess...blog about it.
I had been in a long relationship with Harry and we had talked about marriage on and off for awhile before he proposed. Before I go on, I should say that Harry is not his name but he was so hairy that I found it fitting that I give him this particular name. The more appropriate name should be Sasquatch because when he was naked, he was still a furry beast. Moving on... It was Christmas time and I had been out of town for work and the night I flew home, Harry had planned on popping the question. My flight was due to arrive around 6pm on December 23rd where he would pick me up and take me to dinner. His family was coming to town the next day for Christmas and he thought it would be nice to have some quiet time together before the madness. FYI, this was not his normal thoughtful behavior. His idea of a quiet time together was going to the nearest bookstore. I wish I was joking, but I am not. The smell of books, especially in the library, was as big a turn on to him as would be an adult store complete with private rooms and glory holes to a pervert. On that evening, my flight was severely delayed due to a snow storm and my plane had to circle for hours before it could land. By the time I got off the plane, it was midnight and the restaurant we were going to was already closed. I was tired and he was irritated so we just agreed to grab some fast food and eat it at home. We ate our cold burgers and exchanged small talk before going to bed. I had been gone on my trip long enough that I was wanting to have sex with him before I fell asleep. So we had sex... if you can call it that?
Before I go on about the engagement, I should offer up some back story on who he was, the sad sex between us and the unfortunate size of his penis. Harry is older than me by a good 10 years but acted even older than my deceased grandfather. He had been married prior to my arrival in his life and was left by his ex wife Helen for other men. Excuse me, I said "other men" which was true but eventually she settled down with one of them and even married the guy. So poor Harry was left broken hearted for years before I entered the picture. I always told myself that he was over her but the truth was, he was never over her. I believe that he loved her even more as his life went on (with me in it). Helen remained a part of his life to a point because there was a child involved but she never really had much of an interest in Harry until he and I moved in together. It was like magic! Poof! There she was every single day calling, coming over unannounced and needing favors from him. This relationship was not just Christy and Harry, it was a threesome and not the good kind that happens one drunken night in Vegas (story for another time). During our intimate moments together, I couldn't help but think that he wished it was her in bed, not me. The sex was that bad! The only reason I could come up with for the pathetic romps was that he was thinking of her. I would think of creative ways to spice things up but he would never go for them. One night it hit me, it wasn't me and it wasn't really bad sex, it was the very tiny penis he was cursed with. This is not me taking a shot at him, trust me. When that little thing was soft, it was just a head with no shaft. When it was hard, there was about an inch maybe two, of a shaft. No, scratch that, two inches is too generous. This sorry thing was lacking in every department. I had made several attempts at different positions, toys and flavored lubricants but it was always bad sex. Anything but missionary was impossible due to the fact that his minuscule wiener couldn't reach. Why would I want to be with a man who was lacking in the bedroom and still loved another woman? To this day, the only reason I can come up with was insanity followed by the need to feel wanted and loved. Pathetic isn't it, I know!
The evening of December 23rd, Harry and I went to bed around 2 am and had sex. Something was definitely different this time. Not only was I faking the pleasure I was vocalizing but he seemed to be either half asleep or something was on his mind (besides Helen). Half way through it, I had to ask him if there was something wrong. He told me that he was just tired and suggested that we just call it a night. I agreed and went to the bathroom to freshen up before I went to sleep. When I got back to our room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with a very strange look on his face. He told me to have a seat next to him because we had "to talk". Oh no, here it goes. We are breaking up right before Christmas and I have to figure out where to move on Christmas Eve. OH SHIT! He was soft spoken and proceeded to tell me how he cares about me and he has enjoyed being with me and all the while I was mentally packing my bags. Then he pulled out a ring and asked me to marry him. What???!!! I was in such shock that I shook my head yes and he handed me the box then he laid down and went to sleep before I actually said the word "yes". I opened the box to find a small diamond eternity band and put it on. This was not the proposal fantasy that I had always envisioned. In fact, it was a far cry. Where were the rose petals, sky writing from a jet, a crowd of fans at a hockey game cheering for us as he proposed on bended knee or just pure romance? I had trouble falling asleep at that point because I just kept playing the evening over in my head in disbelief.
On Christmas Eve morning, we both awoke as if nothing had changed and went about our day. I tried to get excited our engagement and so I started calling my family to share the news. I thought that maybe their enthusiasm would rub off on me. The first call was to my mother. She answered the phone and was very happy to hear from me. "Mom, I have some news" and she paused then said "If you are calling to tell me you are engaged to THAT man, then know that I don't support it". That's right, you heard me! She was not a fan of his but it wasn't until this moment that I realized just how deep her disdain ran. I told her that yes he had proposed and we were going to get married. She told me that she would not support it and Merry Christmas then hung up. After the shock of call number one, I then called my oldest brother. Our father had passed away and I had always held my brother in very high regard. I felt that my brother and I were a lot alike and I often times respected him far more than our own dad. His blessing and support would mean more to me than anyone else in my family and so I was very nervous to hear his reaction. To my surprise, he was very happy for me and I asked him if he would give me away at my wedding. He agreed to take the place of my father and seemed very touched by the gesture. Once we ended the phone call, I was in better spirits and decided to make the most out of the engagement and to enjoy the planning of our wedding. I called my other brothers and they seemed happy for me as well. Okay, truth is that one of them was too high to really show enthusiasm or grasp what I was saying and the other brother seemed happy but I wasn't sold on his blessing.
Christmas Day arrived and after all of the gifts were opened by him and his family, I sat and waited for my gift from Harry. I was still sitting and waiting while everyone got up and started breakfast. He walked over and said that he was sorry that he didn't buy me anything to open but planned to take me to the jewelry store the next week to pick out the engagement ring that I would want. He continued to explain that he only picked out the one I had because he didn't want to propose empty handed. He had also wanted to propose at the restaurant we had planned on going to but my flight was delayed and he didn't want to lose his nerve. That night, he announced to his family that we were going to get married and the response was very mixed. His father was emotional and gave a nice toast over dinner and his siblings were "so so" about their joy for us. I reminded myself to continue to make the most out of it because it wasn't to be about anyone else but us. A few days later, we drove to a jewelry store and looked over the ring selection. I didn't want anything too bulky because in my profession, I wash my hands all day and always putting on and taking off latex gloves. My goal was to find a ring that fit with the band I was already given. After a few minutes of browsing, we were approached by a salesman. He introduced himself as Brian and my sweetheart said "Hi, I'm Harry and this is my fiance Helen". Yes, that's right he called me his fiance Helen. Once Brian turned to me and said "Hello Helen", my face turned white and jaw dropped to the floor. Harry then realized what he said and asked me if I still wanted to marry him. I excused myself and walked outside hyperventilating. He followed me out the door and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. He apologized and said that he just wasn't used to saying "my fiance Christy". He promised that it was just a slip of the tongue and he loved me. I was so angry that I decided to hit him where it hurt, his wallet. I forced a fake smile and agreed to go back into the store. When we got back into the shop, he corrected who I was to the salesman and asked to see wedding rings. I started scouting out the biggest one I could find and once I found it, I told Brian my ring size and wanted to know when it would be ready. I thought Harry was going to have a stroke (too bad he didn't) when we found out the price. Again, I didn't want something big and extravagant but I was bitter and hurt and knew that this would hurt him too. The ring was very beautiful and looked amazing on my finger but to be honest, every time I looked at it I wasn't enthused. I was always a little sad when I wore it. It represented the moment that I realized that he did really wish it was Helen he was proposing to and I would never be good enough. This would be the beginning of the end and yes, it did end and not happily ever after.
I was and always have been a believer in signs whether they were placed in front of me by God or just a coincidental billboard that happened to appear at the right time. After this horrific proposal and life changing event, I am even more a believer in signs. They are everywhere and if you don't take them seriously, you might just have to learn the lessons the hard way.