Rules Of Engagement

I was engaged once. It's sad but I can barely remember what he looked like now. It's not that it was so many years ago. It's like I have tried to wipe all memory of him from my brain. I'm not very proud of the way things went with him. We will call him the Newscaster.

We met in August. By Labor Day we were engaged. I was of a certain age. He was a bit younger. I thought if I didn't say yes to him maybe no one would ever ask me again. All my friends thought he was perfect. He was nice to me. God forbid a boy be nice to me. He worshiped the ground that I walked on. He did anything for me that I asked. On paper, in the beginning, he was perfect.

Kiddingly, one day I said, "Oh you know you want to marry me." He said, "Yes, I do." I stood there stunned and then laughed it off. We had been dating 3 weeks. Tops. A few days later he asked me what kind of ring I wanted if I were to get engaged. I said I wanted at least a carat. Flawless. Set in platinum. Two days later he showed up at my place of work and got down on one knee. I stood there like a deer caught in headlights. Shaking my head no but hearing yes come out of my mouth. Those 2 carats looked great on my finger.

Go on. Call me a bitch. Say I'm shallow. I'll agree with you 100%. I wanted to plan a wedding. I wanted the big diamond. I wanted to be married before I turned 30. Mostly I really wanted to fall in love with a nice boy and leave all the assholes behind. The problem was I fell in love with the idea of a wedding. I didn't fall in love with the man.

As time wore on I realized what a huge mistake I had made. I was engaged to a nice man. When I say nice it is really a code word for pussy. He let me walk all over him. I was a complete and utter bitch and he just took it. I later learned that I was only the second girl he had ever slept with. I entrapped him with the precious puss without even trying. I wish I could take it all back.

I planned a beautiful wedding. I went so far as to tell him we couldn't get married in a church because I wanted an outside wedding. Getting married in a church was a big deal to him but he let me have my way. Everything was planned. Bridesmaid dresses. Four flower girls. Flowers. Menu. Plentiful alcohol. A date a year away. One day a friend I hadn't seen for a while asked to see a picture of my wedding dress. I just looked at her. I had never even looked at wedding dresses.

I started to think things through. I realized that I pretty much only had sex with him when I was intoxicated. I realized we hadn't even had sex all that much. I couldn't stand the thought of sleeping with him. I realized that I didn't even want to look at wedding dresses. I realized that there were tons of things about him I disliked. I knew for a fact I disliked myself.

The final straw was when my grandparents went on a fabulous trip for their 50th wedding anniversary. The fiance asked me where I thought we would go on our 50th wedding anniversary. I had a full fledged panic attack right there. The thought of spending 50 years with him made me woozy. And not in a good way. The thought of spending five more minutes with him didn't do much for me either.

As kindly as possible, I broke things off. He went a little a wacko. He ended up spending some time at a "vacation" resort. He was put on leave from his job. I know you are all thinking what a sick bitch I am and you are probably right. There were things about him that I should have seen were "off" from the very beginning. He drank too much. He had an anger problem that was directed at everyone but me. But I was blinded by the light of my engagement ring.

I met The Boy soon after I broke off my engagement. I'm a big believer in what goes around comes around. I almost broke the newscaster and The Boy probably broke me.

By the way, the newscaster is married now to a great girl. They got engaged 3 months after I broke up with him. And yes, I gave the ring back.