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We’d been dating for two years. We had been living together in another state but were visiting his family where we both grew up.
One night during our trip, his mother whipped out a calendar. “So, when’s the wedding?”
“Um… he hasn’t proposed.”
“I’m sure he will soon! Let’s pick a date!”
A few minutes later, me not knowing what the fuck just happened, his mother and grandfather had decided a wedding date for us. The first date they chose didn’t work because his grandfather had a barbeque planned, but they were satisfied with the second date they landed on.
A few weeks later back at home, a package arrived. He came into the bedroom and handed me a ring box.
That was it.
The ring was a repurposed diamond he literally found on the ground of a parking lot.
At the time, I rationalized it as romantic. “The diamond found us!” And since his mother and grandfather had already chosen my wedding date, I put the ring on. Boom. Engaged. Just like that.
He didn’t leave the house to plan anything special. He didn’t get down on one knee. He didn’t give some romantic speech. Looking back, I’m not even sure he ever actually said the words, “Will you marry me?”
What the FUCK was I thinking??!?!?! How did I miss the glaringly obvious signs that this was never going to make me happy?!