Now that
A-Z has finished, it's time to move on to
The ABC's of Swearing. This is really a great story that I am writing at the request of a few people, but be warned there will be the odd SWEAR word from time to time.
It just so happens that the major "life event" (that's what facebook calls it) occurred in a manner fitting for this first post.
Joe and I have been dating for almost a year (May 11, to be exact) and living together for nine months. We have two huge dogs that live in our small house with us. We call our place a "farm," but it's not really a farm because we don't have animals. Joe has always really wanted animals, rabbits, chickens, goats, sheep, cows. We've discussed all of these at length, and to all of his Farmer Joe ideas, I have responded with an adamant "NO."
Now, you see, Joe loves eggs and therefore would simply not give up on the chicken idea. Now, you see, I despise chickens. When I was a small child, a very large and aggressive rooster used to chase me around the yard and peck at me. I carried a red plastic bat around with me to fend it off. I am absolutely not kidding. So, I have a bird complex.
On Sunday, after a long, but lovely day of listening to and reciting creative works, I get a text message from Farmer Joe that says, and I quote, "Promise me that no matter what I do this afternoon, you won't get mad at me." After a brief phone call during which I can hear chickens clucking in the background, I am livid beyond imagination. I get home to four chickens (two roosters) clucking and pecking around our yard. "Why would buy fucking chickens when you know how much I hate them?" "For eggs," is all he says. He has also bought a rabbit, which I am somewhat ok with until he tells me that she is pregnant.
At this point, I go into the house, close myself in our bedroom and try to figure out what emotion I am feeling. Anger? Sadness? Hurt? ASSHOLE!
He comes inside and the dialogue goes something like this:
J: Let's go out for dinner.
B: No, I don't want to go anywhere.
J: Ok, I'll do the dishes then and make supper.
B: Ok.
J: Ok, what do you want to eat?
B: I don't know. I'm not very hungry.
J: Ok, how about pizza?
B: Ok.
As you can see, I was very talkative. Every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to throw something at him or burst out in tears or both. ASSHOLE!
The oven buzzer goes off and a few minutes later he peeks his head into the dark bedroom where I am still sitting contemplating my sheer rage and how I am going to come to terms with the fact that I really kind of despise him at this particular moment. "Here you go," and he passes me a plate of pizza and leaves the room again.
I pick up a piece of pepperoni pizza and notice something shiny under one of the pepperoni slices. I pull out the ring. I think at that point, I had no emotion. I was numb...or something. I get up, leave the bedroom, and find him in the kitchen.
The best way to describe what happened next is another little ditty of dialogue:
B: What is this? (holding up the ring)
J: Well, will you?
B: Will I what?
J: Will you marry me?
B: I'm still really pissed off at you about the fucking chickens.
J: I know.
B: Yes, I'll marry you.
Hugs and kisses and smiles all around.
B: So, did you plan this whole thing? Knowing that I would be pissed off about the chickens and then proposing so I wouldn't be as angry?
J: No!
B: Are you lying to me?
J: No! I didn't.
B: Ok.
J: I figured if I asked you now when you are so pissed off and you still said 'yes,' then you must really love me.
Still an asshole, but no ALL CAPS this time!
So, I am engaged to Farmer Joe (who, incidentally, did not know that he had two roosters; he thought he had one rooster and three hens, but I corrected him - I did grow up on a farm after all.) We now have, in addition to our two dogs named Winston and Chewie, a pregnant rabbit named Betsy, and four chickens named Dexter, Chick Chick, Fiona, and Freda.
