After a group of our friends’ wives cornered us in the kitchen at a party the other night, Mister E was forced to say out loud in words that I am his fiancee and we are engaged. I only heard part of this exchange because I darted into the living room as soon as I saw it about to happen. I tried my best to take him but in the end I could only save myself. I think I’m going to be a terrible wife. Again.
I have this major issue, apparently, where I want people to be happy for me but not too happy. I would love to pass this off on being bipolar but it’s not in the DSM-IV (a huge fail, as far as I’m concerned) so I’ll just have to pass it off on being a horrible person.
I posted on Facebook the other night and was immediately inundated with all manner of congratulations from “about time!” to “I INTRODUCED YOU TWO!” My update thanking everyone for their congrats only netted me more congrats, thus perpetuating a cycle that could go on for years.
I’m still not sure why I bothered telling anyone at work because they are some of the most selfish, lazy assholes to ever live. I was rewarded accordingly, especially by the clinic bully who said “Whenever I do something crazy, I don’t go telling everyone. And you shouldn’t wear that ring to work, it’s just going to get lost.” The one exception was our receptionist, who is a wonderful lady who is getting slowly beaten down by our work. Yesterday she told me “I’m telling the next person who thinks we should give them something for free to fuck right off.”
Later that evening, we went to the aforementioned party. I didn’t really want to go because I knew it would turn into a thing and I didn’t want to be that person who takes all the attention at someone else’s party. But we went because the birthday girl is engaged to a super-awesome guy and I adore them both, and now I’m just hoping she doesn’t think I’m a huge bitch because the hen party cornered me in the kitchen and wanted to hug me and see my ring.
The one person I really wanted to hear congratulations from is silent. My dad hasn’t answered his phone, returned my texts or responded to the photo of the ring I sent him. RJ (my ex-husband) assures me that I haven’t been disowned and reminds me of how I thought he was going to shoot us both when we got married, but I remain unconvinced. Mister E, on the other hand, assures me that you have to actually say something like “you’re no longer my daughter!” before that sort of thing is official. I think we might need to start watching newer movies.