the stories inside the story

when i was ten years old my father called me into his office, along with my sister and brother, and told us he had an important question to ask. he wanted to move back to argentina, and felt that he needed our approval before leaving. after listing his reasons for moving he asked what we thought.  the first thing i said was "everyone will think i was abandoned."

he responded, "i don't care what other people think... i am asking you what you think"

even as a little kid i seemed so concerned with other people's perceptions of me that it inhibited my abilities to sort out how i, myself, felt. where did this preoccupation came from? perhaps it is the artist in me, looking for approval and validation from the audience.

erk and i had been acting out a lot of fake proposals (as seen above) while on vacation in san francisco (it started with planking pictures, and then naturally progressed into engagement-pose pictures.) so the fake proposals had been a long time coming and it both built up the anticipation of the real thing and ruined the possibility of it being a surprise. i even saw the box the ring was in in his underwear drawer weeks before he asked me. 

then on the night of roshashana (how very symbolic and jewish of us) when i was about 7 glasses of wine plastered, tired and dreading my 6am wake-up to go to work, eli asked me to leave the light on as i was heading into bed. i protested, saying i didn't have any energy, wasn't in the mood, and just wanted to go to sleep. he insisted and when i laid down he asked if i wanted to marry him.

i said "no" (standard part of our fake proposal routine) and he then asked if i was sure. i said of course i wanted to marry him, but if he was joking again, to fuck off (or something to that affect - i don't actually remember, as i said, i was drunk/tired). what i do remember is that he then gave me a nice, long kiss and while we were kissing, he put the ring in my hand, not on it. 

my first reaction was protest - "you're supposed to put it on my finger!" he said something like "close-enough".

in the moment, i was annoyed. it was late, i was drunk, and i had to wake up early go to work and then was leaving to go to ny for three days and wouldn't see him till i got back. what kind of a proposal story would this make? that thought actually crossed my mind and was part of what put me instantly in a bad mood. what would other people think about this story? what the hell was wrong with me? how did other people enter into my "engagement story"?

the next day, we rearranged the weekend; went out to dinner alone and then made time to share the news with our families, etc. the funny thing is that i love our long, sloppy story. while i can blame my initial reaction on my intake of wine that evening, the truth is that i still am working through some of the same issues i was working through as a ten year old kid - wondering, "what will everyone else think?"  while it's important to consider others (maybe especially for me) it's a balance, perhaps a lifelong one to achieve.