Every little girl dreams of the day when that special guy is going to get down on one knee, slip his hand into his pocket, and pull out a gleaming diamond to offer. I’ve heard some of the most romantic engagement stories and some of the most mundane, and I’ve always wondered on which side of the spectrum mine would land when the time came.
I was coming up quickly on my 26th birthday and Sam and I had been together for about four years now. We had casually talked about marriage but never anything concrete was decided. Leading up to my birthday, which I regard as my own national holiday, Sam seemed to be acting different. Where he had once concluded to just allow me to make the plans, he was adamant with facilitating all of the birthday celebrating.
He had asked me “What are you wearing to dinner on Friday night? I was thinking you’d want to go get yourself something new and special.” He thought I had WAY too much clothes, so I took this as odd. The next day he said “You don’t really wear jewelry do you? You’d wear special pieces though if you had them, right?” I started to get suspicious, so I sent for additional female opinions, and they agreed this as suspicious behavior and ride it out.
Three days away from our dinner plans, and I’m sitting on the couch and Sam says “Why don’t you treat yourself to a manicure? Here, how much are they?” Now I was nervous. A manicure? I didn’t even think he knew what a manicure was. I casually agreed to the treatment and called my friends with more clues. We were onto something here. I came home to our apartment the next day and when I opened the door I heard Sam immediately yell, “HANG ON! Don’t come up here!” My defiant child-like attitude took all of my power to stifle, because all I wanted to do was run into the room where he was and see this ‘surprise.’
He finally yells down, “Ok to come up.” I immediately go into the bedroom where he was and scan the space looking for anything out of place. Sam caught onto my “Nancy Drew” impersonation and said “Listen, do I have your word that you won’t go snooping around in here, please, it would mean a lot to me if you just let me have this surprise?” Ugh. Well he hit me with such a noble request, so I made the promise to just wait and cool my jets.
Friday came and in my new outfit and freshly manicures hands, Sam and I headed off to dinner. Once we ordered and Sam looked at me and said, “I want to give you one of your presents now.” My heart began to leap from my chest and I nervously looked around where I sat to make sure he had room to take a knee. He stood up and took a small wrapped package out from his back and handed it over to me. He sat down with a goofy grin while I tore into the wrapping. She-Ra- the complete DVD collection.
Don’t get me wrong , I did LOVE it, I just had something smaller and less DVD compatible in mind at the moment, so I was a little less enthusiastic then I should have been.
“That’s not your only present, just so you know. I think it’ll be a very special night for you.” Ok, my suspicions were back on. With each course of the meal I casually forked through the lettuce leaves or lasagna layers wanting to be sure I didn’t swallow any “present” accidentally. The desert came, and again I searched, but no ring.
We left a glorious meal and headed home. I made one final effort to see where this night was histrionically heading, and I blurted out “You’ve really made my birthday so special I don’t want any more presents. So no more, ok?” My attempt at reverse psychology was pathetic, but may work on Sam. “But I have something even more special for you at home,” he confirmed.
It WORKED. Game back on. “That’s ok, why don’t you take it back or something, you really have done so much already, and I am grateful.” (Bite fishy, BITE) “Well I can’t return it” he replied with a small smile. Oh my God, it’s been sized. This is for real now I thought to myself and actually counted the mile markers until we got home.
I raced into the apartment and Sam said, “Go have a seat on the bed.” My heart was in my throat and I looked at the clock to see if would be “too late” to call anyone, then I realized WHO CARES, I’m calling them anyway! Sam comes in the bedroom and kneels at the foot of the bed and holds my hands and says “I have something special for you,” and his hand darts between the Samress and box spring. Just then, my world went black. As clear as day, I knew I didn’t want to get married yet.
“WAIT! You know what I’ve been thinking and I really don’t think I am ready for this. There’s so much I still want to do. I think I want to explore more and all that before we do this and take this step.” Sam looks at me a bit baffled and pulls his hand out from between the Samress and says “I thought it’d be fun…”
And there in his hand was a silver vibrator.
I burst out crying. This gift was WORLDS away from where I had thought. Sam stared at me crying like he was in the presence of a weeping statue of the Virgin Mary, he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Through the tears and snot I managed to say each word: I. Thought. You. Were. Giving. Me. An. Engagement. Ring.
“Why did you think I was giving you a ring? And why are you still crying?” Poor Sam. This attempt to be a little ‘naughty’ truly backfired on him.
“Because…” I then went down my list of Nancy Drew clues to attest to the conclusion that all signs pointed a ring.
“You told me to get a new outfit.”
“It was your birthday and you love clothes, of course you should get a new outfit.”
“You asked me if I would wear special jewelry.”
“Because I wanted to be sure you would like it if I got you a necklace or something.”
“You told me to get a manicure.”
“My mom told me girls like manicures, so I got you a manicure.”
“You said you couldn’t return the gift.”
“That’s because I had them put the batteries in it.”
With that I sobbed even louder. He knew now these tears were more of an embarrassment at my own nature to get carried away rather than the actual disappointment of not being given a ring.
I got on my most covering, fuzzy, and footed pajamas that night for bed (and mind you my birthday’s in July), and slept as close to the opposite edge of the bed as I could get. Looking back on the evening now; poor Sam. The man entered the night with nothing but good intentions and his reward was to sleep next to what looked like a 3rd grader at a slumber party.
Needless to say the ‘present’ was never tested; it held too many uncomfortable and embarrassing memories to be actually taken seriously. In the end Sam and I never did marry, at least not each other. We parted ways a year later on very good terms. During our breakup proceedings as they were, I asked Sam if I ever taught him anything of significance about women. He said “of course, tons.”
“However”, he noted, “you did make me realize girls do love silver presents, just not one’s that could mix paint evidently.”
The lesson I took away was to be patient, all good things will come to you in their own right time. Don’t rush anything.
It’s ironic though, because the lesson I took away is the exact opposite goal of a vibrator.
Ladies, ever wonder where the phrase "tapped that" originated? Fella's, ever wonder if girls had slumber parties with nighties and pillow fights? Yeah, well me too. The Vagina MonoBlogs takes a proactive but honest point of view on some of these timeless questions and offers some perspectives to apply...or avoid for that matter!
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