When I was little (I mean really little), I had the idea that getting engaged one day would be a moment of spastic enthusiasm. A kind of excited frenzy that most adults don’t ever quite feel unless, say, winning the national lottery or being called down for “The Price is Right”. I imagined Mr. Man would ask me and I would be so shocked and thrilled that I’d literally jump into his arms as if it were a sweltering day and he were a pool of cool fresh water. (Seven year olds – Scheesh!)
When I got older and was (inexplicably) more romantically suspicious, I decreed that I would date Mr. Someday for at least five years before considering marriage. Apparently I felt that after a certain amount of time couples were “safe”. (It should be true!) As I got yet older and began to consider marriage as an anthropologist, considering its political, religious, feminist, cultural and historical characteristics, I became a sort of “marital agnostic”. How I felt about it depended on the perspective from which you were looking at it. Certainly I would never join the ranks of 30-something single women who talk as if their “time was up” and they were some social pariah. All that seems so silly nowadays!
The reality? Was at the same time a little and not at all like all of those expectations above. I was not shocked to the point of knocking him over. (Duh, it’s not like we’d never talked about it. And I dare say a man would not propose to a woman that he had no idea of her thoughts on the matter!) I was certainly happy, but in that “adult” way where instead of squealing you are rather numb with a little bit of shock. Lots of hugging. Some teariness. No concern that I was “giving in” to old-fashioned attitudes. And no concern at all that I was bucking the five year threshold. Not even from that normally cautious, doubtful little voice in my head that often tells me to be careful.
I suppose that when I came up with the five year rule, I never foresaw that Mr. Man would have the opportunity to prove his loyalty, his fearlessness of the “sickness and health” bit. At least not quite so literally and certainly not so soon. I guess there are many sides to the things we can’t predict. If I have nothing else to thank cancer for (it’s a figure of speech – you’ll never actually catch me doing so), it has done me the service of satisfying a burdon of proof of him and I. I wouldn’t ask for it again, but there it is. I can recognize a diamond in the rubble when I see it.
As you know I’ve been thinking on the question of whether to stay here on Killer Boob or to go. Gratefully, I am occupied with so many things at the moment. It’s wonderful! But I can’t quite bring myself to say completely say goodbye here. It’s such a good blogging home. Besides, goodbyes never were my style! So I am going to take off the pressure to write most weekdays, but I won’t leave altogether. I might not be here tomorrow, or the day after. I might not even be back this year. But I will be here and I hope that’s enough. And I look forward to seeing you.