At some point in every relationship you reach a pivotal crossroads. You won't be expecting it but out of nowhere, you have to ask: Is he The One or not? If you decide 'not', you move on to the next option. But if, on the other hand, the answer is 'Yes, he's The One!' you'd better be prepared for what happens next... a big fat nothing.
I've been at this "is he or isn't he" crossroad before and frankly, I never saw myself as the marrying type, let alone fathomed what a husband would be like. I even went through a stretch when I was anti-commitment, anti-marriage and anti-relationship. Not bitter, mind you -- just content being single and unattached. I always wanted a wedding, but I figured it would be a spectacular event with my gay best friend playing the role of groom. Then I met my current boyfriend and everything changed.
All of a sudden, I was living in our home with our things. We even got a dog. "I" had become a "we." When I found myself at this relationship crossroads asking if he is The One, my answer came quickly. Of course he is. I adored him. You can imagine my surprise when absolutely nothing changed after making such a monumental decision. I had triumphantly placed my mental vote in the ballot box for The One and turned around looking for balloons, champagne and an engagement ring. What I got was nada. It was anticlimactic and a huge blow to the fantasy I had concocted. I thought the clouds would part and the angels would descend with a Vera Wang gown. Reality? Not so much. No one ever tells you how to handle the purgatory between knowing you found The One and saying "I Do."
Well what now? After getting over the initial shock that my epiphany didn't seamlessly morph into a dramatic proposal, I was still lost. Where is my ring? I'm ready for wife-dom. Why aren't you? I tried everything to find my way out of this vortex of in-between. First, I attempted to be proactive and covertly started planning my -- at this point -- inevitable wedding. Then, frustration set in. Subtle hints led to blatant announcements and I stopped just short of begging. Who the hell was I becoming? I felt trapped, confused and manic. One day, I convinced myself I wasn't ready for wedding bells. The next, I openly and proudly told my boyfriend that I had chosen bridesmaids dresses, venues and flowers. Bless his heart, he didn't go running for the hills. It's like someone fired a starter pistol and I've been running around without a map, desperately trying to find my way to the altar. With this level of crazy, when I find the altar, I'll probably be there alone.
I've made it clear to my boyfriend, my friends and practically everyone I come in contact with that I want the down-on-one-knee, little velvet box and sparkly ring engagement circus. Thankfully, I am confident that my boyfriend really does want the same thing, though there is a part of me that's worried that my obsession might be turning him off to the whole institution of marriage. I'm a type-A, neurotic girl whose vices are jewelry and fancy parties... weddings are my Achilles heel. Mix that with actually being head-over-heels in love and it's a dangerous concoction. I don't know how much longer I will be forced to exist in this no-man's land between girlfriend and wife but I need to find a way to manage my wedding addiction in the interim.
Deep down, I really don't want to pressure my loving, kind and understanding boyfriend into proposing before he is ready. I SWEAR! That part of the journey needs to be taken alone and so he can meet me at the finish line on his own terms. Hopefully, repeating that to myself will quell the Crazy and keep my inner Bridezilla subdued until he proposes because I really want that ring. That is, assuming he still wants to walk down the aisle after reading this. Let's be honest here, the engagement will be the start of a whole new breed of crazy-girl. And the post-wedding depression? Forget about it. My poor boyfriend/future husband is doomed.
Now where's my ring? I am a work in progress.