No more dinners, put a ring on it
When you get to the restaurant, the man orders champagne and you watch if he whispers anything to the waiter, and hope that whatever ring sits at the bottom of that glass has a ruby stone, because you were born in July and diamonds are so overdone.
But the glass is only bubbling with alcohol, so you gulp it all at once, to wash down all that disappointment trying to block your throat. There goes your appetite!
But the waiter is pleasant and smiling as you page through the menu with an absent mind. Then you politely order a traditional fruit wedding cake with vanilla icing, no ribbons and specifically instruct him to ensure that the cake topper is a black couple.
While they both look at you with those astonished faces, you excuse the waiter so that you can finally address the beau decisively and categorically.
At age 30, your mother was already married for 10 years with five kids. Now, you are not in any way suggesting that you have that many good eggs, but honestly, you cannot bear the thought of being a 40-year-old girlfriend!
You remember how you two used to fantasise about getting married and having twins and staying as far away from both your parents’ homes as possible.
So what is the plan here and when will his uncles lead a few cows, or stacks of cash whatever, they can even do an EFT for all you care – and set some dates? Your folks love him. Both your careers are going well and a combined bond will get you a home in the north. You’ll consider a doublebarrel surname and have no qualms about signing a prenup. But because he is just a man, he panics and asks if you’re pregnant – because he doesn’t understand where all of this suddenly comes from…
Suddenly? A whole sudden five years! Okay.
So you go home and RSVP to Cindy’s wedding in September.