"New-To-You" Pre-Owned Jalopy's and JP's

I was never the marrying kind.

I never as a young girl had those bright-eyed fantasies of me clad in white in a huge overly expensive hullabaloo ready to give my life and give up my last name all in the sake of looooove.

I never thought I'd get married. I never thought I would have a relationship period that lasted longer than a year really. I couldn't fathom spending day in and day out with the various characters who littered my romantic (and I use the term very loosely) past.

Hell, even IN most of those relationships I couldn't spend that much time with another person. I needed my space. I wasn't a cuddler or into PDA (public displays of nausea affection). I had my friends, my life, my routine and screw you for disrupting me!

I wasn't an avid hand-holder or even a person who acted like I knew who they were half the time in public. Seeing them once a month was fine by me in fact. I had no qualms of not talking to them for days, weeks even.

Often when I did I was bitchy. Likely because I couldn't stand the fact of being in my current situation, but either too lazy or sympathetic to do anything about it at the time.

I was doing what I thought I was supposed to I suppose. Auditioning people. Trying them on for size in a sense. Nothing seemed to work. No one fit the criteria I knew might have been out there.

So over this blatant disregard for marital bliss, came Cynical Bitch. My lovely alter-ego I came to know so well. (as did a lot of unfortunate other people, but I digress) I just stopped caring, trying. I was never getting married or even thinking it was a possibility so why bother?

So now here I am. All this time later with visions of Sugar Plums dancing in my head. With hopes of a pretty white dress someday and all that I know and love there to wish me well and share it with me (or to show those who never thought it would happen a thing or two while mockingly laughing like Nelson from the Simpsons...).

I find myself staring at everyone I come into contact with's left finger. What kinds of rings they have, if I like them, if they're tacky. Mentally doodling my name and his on an imaginary notebook like I was back in junior high.

I don't even know who I am anymore really. I thought once my dad had died, any hopes of a possible anything for me would have been completely kyboshed. He was no longer there to give me away. After all, a large majority of weddings is for other people. The food, the cake, the miscellaneous photo-ops.

I keep finding myself saddened. Day after day that my father isn't here to see this, to know him. That someday should the fancy strike he wouldn't be able to have a "Mano-A-Mano" chat with dear old dad and ask permission to make me his. That I'd never see the gleam in my dad's eye as he walked me down some elusive aisle and washed his hands of me in a sense that I would now be "taken care of" by someone else.

I think of all he is missing and I cry. I cry because after all the heartache my father witnessed, after all the trials and tribulations I dealt with, I am happy and he isn't here to see it.

He isn't here to see that he is a sweet and funny and generous man who loves me regardless of my faults. That he is a great dad who busts his ass to give his kids everything, and includes my son in all of it as if he were his own. That he does things he doesn't want to do (which I can tell) yet does them anyway, without (much) complaint because he knows it will make me happy.

That mythical man I thought never existed, who was smack dab in front of my face for so many years. Blinded by fear, by cynicism and a little by stupidity and yet this would turn out to be one of the greatest things to ever happen to me.

So now I have these thoughts. Songs to dance to, sparkly things for my finger all dancing in my head ad nausea.

And he's sorta on the fence.

Oh sure he mentions he loves me, and Vegas and blah blah blah. He tells me he wants to marry me. (and HE mentioned this before I ever did mind you) He's just seemingly anti-wedding.

I did weddings for 8 years (insert ironic laughing here, I know you want to). It was something I was damn good at and I knew a lot of people. I helped pull off a gorgeous 200+ attended wedding for about $5,000. I know it can be done. I know it can be frugal.

(Not to mention the gifts and money you get, but really now that's just shallow...for shame)

Not that I am planning right this second the bash of the century or even am remotely close to having any bling on this there finger (although one was offered...a donation of sorts), I feel like I am being met with a whole lot of "yeah right" on the other end.

That a JP and a used car are a better idea for a marriage. Wow THERE's a romantic notion. Let's just sidle on up to the courthouse in our "new-to-you" pre-owned jalopy and get hitched. Stellar.

Ok so maybe that's a slight exaggeration (well except the car comment...men try to be so practical) but still. Nothing like killing a girls new found dreams with your lack of enthusiasm. You can't have champagne wishes on a beer budget, but when you want something bad enough, you save and make things happen right? You cut corners, you scour the planet internet and wheel and deal your way into the perfect situation for you.

I may have never been married, but I am not new at being cheap and getting what I want. I am the Clearance Queen afterall. That's what I do, what you learn to do when you are Ghetto-Fabulous like myself.

Good thing I was never the marrying kind...