Well, what can I say? I got a promotion. I got the boy. Aaaaand, I got the surprise of a lifetime from him.
Not a good one, although he did spring it over a VERY nice dinner meant to celebrate me and my goddessness.
It’s not a big deal. I mean, it is to me. But I’ve done worse in my life, no doubt. I just wonder if we’re better off friends. Nah, I’m gonna fight for him. This means that much to me.
I think what’s flipped my shit right now is that the workaholic (and, quite possibly, alcoholic) girl whose only dream in life was to go to Paris, well, has changed. She started wanting marriage and was even thinking a wee bit about babies. OK, maybe more than a wee bit.
Yes, our girl started wanting everything she spent her lifetime fighting against.
I told him maybe I’ll just go back to being a workaholic. Maybe this whole notion of settling down and having it all was a fluke.
A good friend of mine was dating a guy a long time ago, and I remember her saying once that she could see their unborn children in his eyes. I remember chopping off my ponytail and hanging myself with it — thinking, girl, WTF?
I wouldn’t say I saw zygotes swimming in his retinas, by any means. But I do look at my birth control blister pack and think, well, I’ve never wanted to procreate with anyone before but damn, he’d be a good dad … if the way he is with me is any indication of just how big his heart is.
So, I am breaking my silence long enough to freak the fuck out here. And to say that I’ll be OK, no matter what happens next. After all, I’ll always have Paris, even if I’d trade it for a night in New Orleans with him any day. …