He Didn’t Have Time to Go to Jared’s

How could he possibly have known he’d be proposing? He wasn’t even in a relationship with anyone…well, actually, that wasn’t entirely true, was it? He’d been sort-of dating Simone for months now, but they were just, what was it, “friends with benefits.” He wasn’t even entirely sure he could call it that since they didn’t start as friends and technically weren’t even friends now. She was a fuck buddy, but apparently that wasn’t a nice thing to call someone. Irrelevant, sometimes the truth hurts.

But that’s neither here nor there. The thing is, he was going to marry this woman. Not Simone, this woman. He didn’t even know her name. He didn’t know if she snores, has good hygiene, wears those terrible pre-faded/holey jeans he can’t stand. He didn’t know if she liked sushi, drank beer, could listen to that pina colada song without singing the words. He had no idea who she was, but after watching her kick that guys ass, he was in. And he was in all the way.

See, the thing is, he wasn’t much into violence, in fact, he’d go out of his way to avoid confrontation, something that had earned him a difficult to remove label in grade school. But it’s just his way, a fight always seemed like something no one ever won, so what was the point. And it didn’t matter if it was verbal or physical. No fighting, ever, he couldn’t handle it.

But this? This wasn’t a fight. This was perfection. This was karma. Or something… Probably not karma cause isn’t karma a Buddhist thing and aren’t they all passivists or something? Whatever. The point is, this was exactly the way the world ought to work but never did. Like when there’s no cop and every car seems to be speeding and swerving and generally implying that everyone around them is seconds away from dying catastrophically, but then a day later when that one car is doing five miles over the speed limit and gets pulled over. Bullshit.

But not this. This was the opposite of bullshit. This was flowers and rainbows and unicorns. Or something. It was epic. He’d watched the whole thing, heard the whole thing, too. Although he’s sure no one noticed him, it was kind of a thing he’d perfected since grade school. Anyway, he’d seen and heard the whole thing, and he would testify to that if it came to it.

What happened was, this guy, this sleazy, bougie, frat boy type guy had been coming on to her at the bar. It was obvious. He was not at all afraid of the whole place knowing that his awesome self was interested in this chick at the bar who would be throwing herself into his arms any minute. Guys like that were so useless. But the thing is, she wasn’t. And she wasn’t rude or quiet or subtle about it. She was clear. She was calm and polite, waiting for that douche to finish his long and much too loud entreaty, and then, looking him full in the eyes, she said “no, thank you,” before turning the other way to continue her interrupted conversation with the woman next to her.

You could tell this guy, this “Brad” we’ll call him, wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. He was clearly not used to hearing “no,” but even more shockingly there seemed to be this confusion about whether or not her dismissal had been debatable. Despite how clear it had sounded to the rest of the bar, this elite little shit seemed to think she was waiting for further persuasion.

The people around the bar, not those by the old-timey looking jukebox that was actually a false front for a full musical collection with everything from country to rap but everyone else, heard when he said, “Awe, come on beautiful, I just want to buy you one drink!” slapping his hand on her shoulder. And everyone saw, even those by the giant cloud of tunes speaker, when in one smooth motion she stood up, took his hand from her shoulder and somehow threw him to the floor without moving, stood over him, releasing his hand, and said very clearly and with just enough tone, “no.”

That was it. I was in love. She was everything. She was perfect. Here was a woman who wasn’t interested in conflict, who avoided conflict, but who stood her ground. A woman who could take conflict and flip it on it’s dumb ass.

I didn’t have time to go to Jared’s, how could I?, but this was it. This was the woman I was going to marry.

This #writethirtyminutes session was prompted very loosely from “A Year of Writing Prompts” by Writer’s Digest, available here

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