I have proclaimed a number of bold statements in my life.
I will always hate felines.
I will never fall in love.
I will never get married.
The “I DO” terminology had never even slipped into my frolicking-fantasy-daydream-of-love landscape. I was the girl with an agenda. An agenda that included proving my domination in this world without the help of another man or woman. And love, the idea of it, left a foul taste in my mouth. I thought love, marriage, and the life-long pursuit of happiness was for pussies. I had decided that the laughable term “commitment” was a delusion brought upon this world by people who had nothing else going for them. It sounds a bit harsh doesn’t it? I grew up an angry girl, defiant and unconvinced about the supposed bliss of matrimony.
Then love found me.
Or I found it.
I think rather…I let myself be found.
Either way, almost three years ago I met this boy who liked that I was angry and defiant. Two years ago, I stopped fighting it and started letting him open doors for me. One year ago, I began making an effort to be nice to his cat, Abbey, and now have found an entertaining companion.
I fell in love.
I AM in love.
Now here’s the crazy part: on February, 29th 2008, I am going to propose to the boy who convinced me that I could be angry and defiant and loud and strong and wise and feisty and funny and creative and loquacious and determined and gorgeous and independent and passionate and still be a girl in love.
According to Scottish tradition, it is on this particular day when the girl is given permission to ask the boy. And so it will be on this day when I whisk the boy of Scottish roots and of my dreams away to his favorite place by the water. It is here where I will no doubt get all sweaty and awkward and fumble with what was supposed to be an eloquent admission of my innermost thoughts.
It is here that I will open my hands and–willingly–my heart, to exclaim:
“Anam Cara, as our love is true, will you forever be mine?”
And it will quite possibly be the boldest statement I have ever proclaimed in my life.
14 Comments
Jess, you crazy bitch! Congrats! Does he know that you’re up to these plans?
His full name is Anam? Who knew.
“…a delusion brought upon this world by people who had nothing else going for them.”
You were such a cynical brat! Is this what you were thinking of Kyle and I the whole time…?
Ha. No, he has no idea. In fact, this is a little twisted, I have gone out of my way to make him think that marriage is a possibility far far away….so he doesn’t steal my thunder…
Hahahaha. Horrid, I know.
Anam Cara, it’s gaelic for “soul friend”
Honey, my cynicsm (sp?) came from you.
Bam.
Watch your words, Haley. I would hate to have a hand in Andy intercepting your big plans. Mwah hahaha!!!
I hope he doesn’t check out your postings on this site…
Isn’t it also Scottish tradition that the vows have to be renewed each year? … or is that a different tradition?
Sam,
He is definitely not a FI reader, unless I force him. So no worries there. I haven’t read about the vow renewal thing, and I’m personally not Scottish, so I’m not sure ;)
P.S. KYLE, I know you love that Blue Fox picture, but it is SO embarrassing!
Unless you’re gonna put together your own banner, you’re just gonna have to deal with it, ’cause it’s my favorite picture of you.
Ooooh..Kyle….I don’t do Banners…damn you.
Yesterday my boss said, “You are a very talented woman.” And I agreed, thanks for ruining it by pointing out my lack of web skills.
P.S. Maybe I’ll pay for the $500 plane ticket to get a punch to your crotch in. ala crotch-punch. Harsh.
Or maybe you’ll spend $500 to come support the starving artist you call your best friend.
Oooh, damn! He went there!
Damn, Jess, you make me laugh (and yes, cry a little too). Is it too late to become friends with you guys and show up at the wedding in place of Dawn and Kyle? I’ve always wanted to wear a kilt (well ever since I heard that “free-balling” was the proper under attire).
Leigh,
You live in Port Townsend right? If you ever want to swing on down to Tacoma I’ll make some dinner for you and your lady, just ask the Dyle, my dinners are pretty much amazing.
She’s an off-the-hizzy cook. Take her up on her offer. Plus, she’s just as cynical and as funny as you. Maybe you guys can rant against Sean Penn for a few hours.
(PS: The ReCaptcha for this comment is “American Useless.” I like that)