Last Saturday, my on-again off-again boyfriend asked me to marry him. I wish I could tell you the moment was filled with candle light, romantic music and preceded by a great meal in some fancy restaurant. Instead, it was at 4:30 in the morning after this guy persistently rang my door bell and woke me up out of sound sleep.
I reluctantly let him inside and he proceeded to help himself to a drink and flopped down into a chair in my living room.
"I've been thinking about getting married," he announced. "I really need some stability in my life."
I nodded silently, thinking that if this was his way of proposing, so far I wasn't impressed.
"So who were you thinking of marrying? I asked.
"Well, I have a couple people in mind," he replied.
Before I could ask who these people might be, he said that he had gone to some court deposition that had to do with money he owed. For reasons I didn't want to know, his ex-wife was at the court house and so was this girl he had dated before me that has since had a child from some drug dealer in Bridgeport.
"My ex-wife really looked hot--you know I married her twice. And Stephi's kid came running toward me. That kid needs a father," he said.
"So you were deciding if you should marry your ex-wife Joanie, or your ex-girlfriend, Stephi, is that it?" I asked.
"Well not exactly. My first choice would be you."
At that moment, I felt like this man was at a car dealership where he knew he wanted a certain car model. The question was, what color to choose? I was his first color choice, but just in case that color wasn't in stock, he could just as well buy his second color choice--the blue one, his ex-wife, or the black one--his other ex-girlfriend with the toddler on her hip. It was as if he was going eeney, meeney, miney, moe.
To add insult to injury, he had brought some food over that I assumed was a gift, and asked me to write a check for the boxes of steaks and crab cakes he stuffed in my freezer. At that point, I just wanted him out of my house, so I scribbled out a check for $109.00. As I handed the money over to him, he said: "Marcy, will you marry me?"
"Tell me, if I married you, what would I get out of the deal? You're homeless, you're broke, and you're a hopeless drunk. Where's the fun in marrying someone like that? I think I'll pass." That was my answer.
He dropped his head. "Okay, so I'll marry Stephi then. I can offer her something. Her kid needs a father," he shot back.
"I'm sorry, but I don't see you as the kind of guy that likes to change diapers," I said.
"Damn right. I'm not changing any diapers, but I can do other things, like play catch with the kid," he answered.
"Whatever." I said.
"So I'm going to marry that girl, and you have to step up to the plate and support me on this, because you're my friend," he insisted.
"I don't have to do shit. Now get out of here."
He sulked out the door and walked back to his truck in the gray mist of dawn.
Leave it up to this guy to make a marriage proposal feel more like a slap in the face. Well, at least I can say I'm still marketable marriage material. I was getting worried about that. It's something I can put on my bucket list and cross off: 7. Get a marriage proposal. Check.