(singing along to ABBA’s “I have a dream”)
My dream of 2 nights ago went like this: A guy proposed to me. (Ok you can stop laughing now, mop up your tears, and continue reading.) The setting: Me in an elegant, chic, understated dress. Him in a dashing suit, down on one knee. Huge diamond ring, romantic surrounding, flowers everywhere. You know, the works. It’d be perfectly normal if it wasn’t for these things:
~ Weird: Taken aback, I blurted out a very reluctant “yes”. At first I was kinda brushing it aside, until I realised I was in a situation that I had to either say Yes or No; no grayness allowed.
~ Weirder: After the half-hearted “Yes”, I then proceeded to, wait ’til you hear it, slap the poor guy’s hand & told him off right there & then for getting me a rock the size of an ostrich egg. And of course managed to make him look all sheepish & embarrassed. Now it may sound strange to many, but to me a rock by any other name is still a rock. I’d much rather have a 3-month-around-the-world ticket, rolled up into a ring & slipped on my finger. He, the guy who was unlucky enough to have wanted to propose to me, should have at least known that, don’t you think? Pah!
~ Weirdest: Now the thing that made my sister laugh for a good 15 minutes, was that this guy was no ordinary guy, thank you very much. In fact, he was a physical hybrid of… (no, not half human half bird, I wish!)… all my ex-boyfriends and ex-crushes put together (!) He had the rugged manly look of M, the loving hypnotizing eyes of H, the infectious gorgeous smile of G, the drool-worthy athletic body of U, etc. etc. In short, he was THE Perfect Guy. (Sorry girls I don’t know how that image happened, it just did, so no tips for you here. Maybe because I’m rather good at decoupage & collage?)
AND I reluctantly agreed to marry this guy! What was friggin’ wrong with me?! It was a dream, but still!
Thank goodness it was only a dream.
Oh, no, should I have said “Dammit it was only a dream!” instead?