Sorry in advance to Gelly for faggotry to follow
It appears by the end of the year I'll be changing my name to Christina Bridges.
I <3 a John.
This morning was a lazy morning. Having just returned from vacation we're still getting used to the time change again, and the rain outside pattering against the roof and windows was hypnotic. I read, and John was using the laptop; I could tell he was tense. He was worrying about all the work waiting for him since we returned. I snuggled against him to soothe him, and we laid back. Silence, then: "Do you want to marry me?"
"Yes," I replied promptly.
"It's not a rhetorical question."
"You--You're asking for real?" I sputtered.
"Yes."
Pause. "Yes."
Evidently that was a big part of the stress this morning. He was going to propose tomorrow for our six month anniversary but didn't want to wait any longer. His mother was the first to know, and she's happy. My parents are thrilled. Mom: "I'm so happy for you. I'm happy you're getting married. I'm happy you're marrying John." Cara, my best friend back in Wisconsin, has agreed to be my maid of honor and is going to Mike Bjorn's to try and find a tux.
I even fucking bought bridal magazines. We were at the Barnes and Noble, and I may as well start planning because me=BAD PROCRASTINATOR. I bought them to get ideas for what I want, and one is a localized magazine that has the numbers to book receptions etc.
Over lunch we started working out details. Tiny wedding, only parents and a honor attendent each in front of a justice here in California. I'm not going to buy a fancy wedding gown, but I will look for a simple white/cream/silver dress. The reception will be small as well, around thirtyish people, we think.
Jesus Christ, this is still disconcerting. I had a goofy grin on my face all day but as the reality sinks in I'm still excited and happy but also OMG.
In the past I've eschewed the notion of marriage; why bind yourself legally to another person? It's expensive and messy to get out of. Harder to escape. It didn't make much sense to me. Now I don't feel the need to flee like I did with the ex, the urge to gnaw off a leg to escape the trap. I want to be here. I want to be with John, for however long we have, whether it's five years or fifty.
Christina Bridges. OOF.
I <3 a John.
This morning was a lazy morning. Having just returned from vacation we're still getting used to the time change again, and the rain outside pattering against the roof and windows was hypnotic. I read, and John was using the laptop; I could tell he was tense. He was worrying about all the work waiting for him since we returned. I snuggled against him to soothe him, and we laid back. Silence, then: "Do you want to marry me?"
"Yes," I replied promptly.
"It's not a rhetorical question."
"You--You're asking for real?" I sputtered.
"Yes."
Pause. "Yes."
Evidently that was a big part of the stress this morning. He was going to propose tomorrow for our six month anniversary but didn't want to wait any longer. His mother was the first to know, and she's happy. My parents are thrilled. Mom: "I'm so happy for you. I'm happy you're getting married. I'm happy you're marrying John." Cara, my best friend back in Wisconsin, has agreed to be my maid of honor and is going to Mike Bjorn's to try and find a tux.
I even fucking bought bridal magazines. We were at the Barnes and Noble, and I may as well start planning because me=BAD PROCRASTINATOR. I bought them to get ideas for what I want, and one is a localized magazine that has the numbers to book receptions etc.
Over lunch we started working out details. Tiny wedding, only parents and a honor attendent each in front of a justice here in California. I'm not going to buy a fancy wedding gown, but I will look for a simple white/cream/silver dress. The reception will be small as well, around thirtyish people, we think.
Jesus Christ, this is still disconcerting. I had a goofy grin on my face all day but as the reality sinks in I'm still excited and happy but also OMG.
In the past I've eschewed the notion of marriage; why bind yourself legally to another person? It's expensive and messy to get out of. Harder to escape. It didn't make much sense to me. Now I don't feel the need to flee like I did with the ex, the urge to gnaw off a leg to escape the trap. I want to be here. I want to be with John, for however long we have, whether it's five years or fifty.
Christina Bridges. OOF.