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2017 was quite a year for me. I lost about five pounds, got a raise, and only had to take Plan B once. I also got a boyfriend.
You might remember me as the one who prematurely traveled internationally with a guy I barely knew. Sparing you the details, the trip was nothing short of magical. He forgot who I was after taking a sleeping pill on the plane, I got frostbite after our tour of Dachau concentration camp, and I cried after sex. Twice. But clearly he’s into all of that because six weeks later the families were met, two months later we were living together, and six months after that, anal was finally had. Just kidding. I’d rather purge myself.
Anyway, around month #9, people started asking the engagement question. Yes, we have talked about it – and I truly believe this is the direction we’re heading toward. But my first thought was: how the ballsack am I supposed to know when we’re getting engaged? Am I the one doing the proposing now? Do I honestly look like the type of person who’d be in a gender-neutral relationship where both parties have to propose to each other for the engagement to be real? Think again. But even more dauntingly, let’s say he does propose within the next few months. How will he know what type of ring I want?
Now, I know what you’re thinking. But Annie! If he’s going to be your fiancé, shouldn’t he already know you’re style and what type of ring you like?! To which my answer would be: please get a head CT. Guys are literal animals. They can’t tell their mouth from their asshole sometimes and you expect him to know something so specific that people get murdered over minor imperfections? Hard fucking no. And since the thought of a heart-shaped .5-carat ring makes me want to give up my firstborn, I need to think of a way to tell him what type of ring I want… without actually telling him.
Which brings me to my internal debate: Should I make my boyfriend an engagement ring PowerPoint presentation? Nothing crazy here. I’m talking 10 slides max that outlines my desired 4 Cs and some pictures for reference. I’ll even send it from a burner email to hide my identity.
The angel on my right shoulder is telling me not to do it. She says that my meet & fall in love story is better than a Hallmark movie, so why should I spoil the ending now? She whispers in her crisp monotone voice that I shouldn’t be too controlling. That I’m stripping him of his masculinity and taking away the experience from him. Although innately positive, she also warns me that God forbid things don’t work out between us, I’ll forever be seen as the girl who made an engagement ring PowerPoint for her boyfriend who clearly didn’t feel the same way. Next stop: Rejection station. Population: me.
But the devil on my left shoulder is telling me to do it. You already know his budget, she mentions, so why the fuck not? She says that if he has all of the information he needs in his arsenal, he’d be able to reference it whenever he wants – and use it when the time is right. And since I have no idea when that will be, the proposal can actually be a surprise, which is the way I’ve always envisioned it. But her main argument is probably my most convincing. The devil knows that I have a very hard time hiding my facial expressions and that I would not be able to hide my reaction to a pear-shaped, vintage emerald ring for a single second. She tells me that making this PowerPoint would be in his best interest because the immediate look on my face wouldn’t murder his highest hopes and dreams. Plus, she says in a sultry, sexy voice: I’ll get the ring I want. .
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