High Maintenance

Three weeks later gingham man proposed. There were no flowers or rose petals, there was no candlelight or movie scene….I believe it was Thanksgiving night and we were sitting in my parents living room when he kept telling me to sit down and be quiet for a second. I refused and finally he yelled “Sit down and SHUT UP” A few seconds later he got down on one knee and took out the ring and I cried. I cried cause it was beautiful, I cried cause I was scared and I cried cause Holy Shit how was this happening to me? This wasn’t my first proposal and I didn’t know it then, but it also wouldn’t be my last. My history goes a little like this: I have been proposed to seven times, accepted three, married two and divorced both. Not very good stats, but you gotta be in it to win as they say. I believe in marriage. I wholeheartedly believe in love, but it was always just out of reach for me. Have you ever gone to a wedding pregnant? No? Well neither have I. I refused to get married until after the baby was born. I wanted so many things for my wedding. It’s true when they say little girls plan their whole lives for their wedding day. I have fortunately got to play it out quite a few times. My motto is “always the bride never the bridesmaid”. I had a very traditional wedding other than the fact the gingham man is black, Methodist, southern marrying a Roman Catholic Italian in a Northern New Jersey Church and we already had a child. Totally traditional right? Everything else was. We got married at the same reception hall as my parents did, I wanted the same priest who married my parents and my sister to marry us, but he refused. I had a bridal party with my sister as my maid of honor, my high school best friends as the rest of the party and one good college friend. He had his brother, a few friends and his cousin. Everything surrounding this wedding, both my weddings for that matter went wrong. Who didn’t show up, who was late, the flowers not coming. You name it, it happened. It was like opening night and the house was packed and no one knew their lines. I wanted all kinds of things at this wedding. I enjoy the details. That’s where the devil is. I can only imagine that during this wedding process I was a bridezilla. I was planning a wedding while six months pregnant and from three states away. Not an easy feat. I wanted what I wanted and I was also yearning for something else. Doesn’t that seem to always be the case? Something we’ve always wanted we get and yet…once we get it, it isn’t exactly what we wanted? How on earth is that possible? Maybe the timing isn’t right? Maybe the person we are at time it comes to us isn’t ready for it? I can only tell you this… has taken me over twenty years to realize what it is I really want. I do not want all bells and whistles, I do not want the big church wedding, I do not want a grand proposal….I want to be loved. Unconditionally. By a man who sees just me. Not what they want me to be, not what I represent, but just me. I have searched many years for that, but I truly didn’t know that was what I was looking for until recently. Better late then never right?

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