Oh my god I said it. I can't believe I said it. My heart stopped.
Every relationship article I'd ever read in any trashy women's magazine always touted to keep some mystery in a relationship. Don't let him see you do this. Don't let him hear you do that. Some said to get ready in the morning without him seeing you. I scoffed at that one. I mean seriously, what bozo thinks you really look all made up and primped all the time like you're some natural beauty. And that wouldn't work anyways for me being that I often leave with wet hair, or just a section dried in the morning. And my makeup sucks into my face and vanishes within a half-hour anyways. You think it's an exaggeration? When I was an extra on a movie once, the makeup artists all told me they'd never seen anything like it. They'd do me up and then POOF, thirty minutes later I had mascara and one glob of eyeliner left on my face. I was told I should wear primer. Primer? On my face? I hate makeup anyways and rarely wear foundation, I'm not putting another layer of shit on my face.
So in all of the advice stuff on how to keep the mystery in your relationship, it basically (in my mind) came down to this...don't poop in front of him, don't pee in front of him, don't fart or burp, don't grab your muffin top and show him just how chubby you've become, don't ask him to smell your finger after you've shoved it in your belly button. Don't talk about sex in your past or about ex-boyfriends or husbands in general. Don't wear your period-stained panties EVER. And never, ever tell him you've thought about marriage with him.
In all of this I have never ever shat in front of Pete, ran the risk of being caught changing my tampon, nor admitted any retarded marriage thoughts. He has brought up marriage before, and I've told him I could marry him, but I've left it at that...until last night when I opened my big, fat mouth.
I blame St. Patrick's Day and three pints of Guinness. We were out with friends celebrating and having a great ol' time and Pete and I were having our own conversation at the table. I can't remember how it started, I was buzzed and I honestly think he said something to provoke it, but he made a comment about getting married as he got up to go to the bar and I laughed and said, "Sure! Maybe in like twenty years!" He stopped and turned around, kissed me and said, "Well I hope it's a lot sooner than that!" I was shocked! Did he still after seven months and a really rough bump in the relationship for a bit, want to marry me? ME? The girl who does everything without mystery? The girl who considers getting dressed up, wearing a NEW t-shirt and panties that don't have holes in them? The girl who farts all the time and has even gotten a bit lazy in excusing herself, and instead makes proud comments? ME? I was stunned.
He came back to the table and sat down, kissed me again and then my tourettes kicked in.
"Sometimes when I'm bored I look at wedding dresses online."
WHAT???!!! That did not just come out of my mouth. My mind screamed at me, "You dumb bitch! Do you KNOW what you've just done? Go home, pack your bags and leave...you're fucked. You can tell him you've thought about marriage too, but DO NOT tell him you've looked at wedding dresses online, you retard!"
I sat there with my mouth hanging open, wishing for a rewind button.
He smiled and said, "You know what, I think that's a good thing. You should keep looking."
And my heart melted. Mystery isn't all it's cracked up to be.
