So The Project basically ripped off a story I wrote a few weeks ago (actually, I’m not vain enough to suggest they stole it but in any case, the case study they used was shit compared to mine).
Extravagant proposals. Yes, what the actual fuck? I’ve been semi-proposed to twice. Number 1 was a massive twat who dumped me then chased me to the other side of the world, begging me to go back to Scotland with him and get hitched. I made him cry. I’m nice like that.
Number 2 was someone I’m still in touch with and love very much. After I set up an email account for him (he’s quite a few years older than me and is good with his hands rather than technology. Christ, he’s only just gotten on Facebook) and he knew I was planning on moving back to Australia via a post grad degree, he emailed saying:
“we both know you don’t want to study again. So let’s get married I’m serious. And I haven’t been drinking.”
Which was totally lovely.
But seriously, who can care less about stupid expensive elaborate proposals? I’d just be chuffed if someone I love fucking asked me, even at a bus stop (a la my parents).
But let’s face it; I’m not getting married and I’m not having kids. In a few weeks I will turn 35. While my sister is off in the Maldives with her boyfriend, I’m sobbing on the couch with the cat wondering how everything went so wrong and getting inadvertently sexted by a man off the internet.
My brain is doing weird things again. I feel unloved and unlovable. Drowning in debt, being mad in the head and no idea what the actual fuck I’m doing does not bode well for a sparkling future. And being told all week you’re shit isn’t great. And not being able to get in touch with your family sucks. And being nuts is the icing on the cake.
Don’t marry me. Serious.