What She Wore: Navy blue, flared skirt with white polka dots; white polo shirt with a ruffle around the collar and cuffs; navy blue shoes with a slim white bow.
I am not cool.
Despite many attempts to be cool, despite my bluster and bluff, I am not cool.
I forget this sometimes, and as a result may begin to sound a little bossy or self-important. I may try to sound "above" things like romance and love, but in those cases my husband will eventually put me in my place.
The other day, while riding in the car, the Hub says Do you remember when you told me you wanted to get married?
I’m already not liking the way this conversation is going. I mentioned marriage? The Rules girls would not approve of this! No wonder I blocked the whole thing out
We were in college. . .
ahhh. . college. This may explain a lot. A large portion of my college memories are fuzzy around the edges. This is mainly due to the consumption of many rum and cokes. I think this could explain why I have no memory of this event–I’ll just keep on denying it ever happened.
So, we were sitting in your dorm room, and you told me you wanted to marry me, and that kind of caught me by surprise.
Oh my God!!! What was a doing? Proposing at the age of nineteen? This is mortifying, and most importantly: not, at all cool!
When you realized how surprised I was, you got embarassed, and ran out of the room crying–I had to chase you all the way down to the lobby.
This might be the worst thing I have ever done–sweet Lord, why is he re-hashing this stuff? Can’t we just leave it in the past where it belongs? I sound like a weepy, sniveling pile of goo, and this is not at all how I like to believe our relationship is–I play it cool, and he comes to me, right? I’m squirming in my seat, and at this point I have to interrupt. .
Why are you telling this story anyway? What is the point of this?
Well, said my Hub, turning to look at me, that night was the first time I told you that I loved you.
Well, damn, no wonder I can’t play it cool with this guy.