I know, I know, it sounds unfortunate; and even from here I can hear the wails of all the single ladies that weren’t chosen; but I’m really quite happy.
At my bachelor party — the night of alcohol and drug fueled debauchery that you’ve come to expect from me — we discussed the “freak-out” moment. That is, the moment you finally realize you are vowing your entire life away with this one person.
It isn’t bad to have a freak-out moment. If you don’t have one it might be because you haven’t realized what it is you’re getting yourself into. I had mine before I bought the ring. I recall it occurring at precisely the moment I decided to buy that ring. Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I knew that was what I wanted. I knew 2 months into speaking with Marissa that I was going to marry her. It was just the first time I started so see just what courting Marissa would cost. Was she worth the things I’d have to give up? The time? The money? My dreams? The engagement ring was just a symbol.
Of course she was. Of course she is. She’s resting against me even as I write this. I really do think we make a good team, from plotting world domination to just trying to navigate out of Montreal. (That’s a story for another time.)