Relationship labels suck. When you’ve been dating for more than 2 ½ years, the word “boyfriend” seems too small. Then you get engaged, and all of a sudden you have to refer to your guy as something different, which is already weird, but the word fiance seems so douchey! I find myself avoiding using the word and have just started saying “sig other,” “my guy” or sticking with “boyfriend.” (Which is worsened when squealy girls say “noooo, he’s your FIANCE!!!)

 

People also love to ask “what is engaged life like?!?!” The answer is: the same? Maybe it was romantic for the first two days, then I feel like we both kind of gave up and stopped trying a little bit since we were already locked in. Now is the time to start peeing with the door open and only showering three times a week! You can’t leave me!!!

 

I hate telling people I’m engaged because they all want to know the story. But they don’t want to hear a boring story. They want to hear how he took me to our favorite, celebrity-chef-owned restaurant, then started his prepared, perfect, rehearsed speech about all the different ways he loves me, arranged for all of our best friends to be there (flew in my family from Denver, natch) and suddenly materialize holding sparklers as he drops to one knee, then our dogs would run out from the kitchen, inexplicably so well-trained all of a sudden that they held “Will You Marry Me” signs in their mouth and present a ring to me that is tied to one of their collars. Then champagne came out and we all partied until dawn and my dogs didn’t pee inside.

 

This is not my story. My story isn’t not romantic, but it does revolve around a poop. It was the night before my boyfriend’s 30th birthday. At around 11:30, I decided I was tired and wanted to go to bed. He begged me to stay up until he turned 30. I said okay. 11:59 rolls around and I’m waiting to yell “Happy Birthday Goodnight!” when he says “wait hang on, baby, I have to go to the bathroom. Annoyed, I asked him if it was going to be fast (i.e. just a pee) because I really didn’t want to wait the 20 minutes just to say Happy Birthday. I could do that half asleep from under the covers. He assured me he’d be out by 12:01.

 

At 12:10 he comes out, all excited. I say happy birthday, then start going to bed. He says he’s going to open all his gifts NOW, and runs to where they were “hidden.” (They weren’t hidden well – I tried to get them under the bed, but one of the boxes only half-fit, so it was jutting out. I’m going to be the laziest Mom-Santa ever, my kids will never believe in him). I grabbed his hands to stop him and in his hand was a ring (cue “awwws” from single girls). He didn’t do a big speech, and started it with “well, you knew this was coming…” which I did.

 

The day before, he was talking to a friend on the phone and not-so-cryptically said “yeah I bought it last week. (pause) I’m going to do it very soon” – and I was sitting next to him. And minus the waiting for him to poop, I do prefer the way it happened. I appreciated the heads up so I could get a manicure the next morning (I chose the color “Let’s Get Engaged, because if he’s not being slick, why should I). I also don’t like anyone enough to have them present at life events, so I liked that it was just us and our two dogs, who were very curious about the ring we were holding and tried to eat it. Although that might have been a better story if they ate it and I had to wait for them to poop it out. It would have been more of an adventure and would fit in with the whole “waiting for someone to go #2 so I can get my damn ring” theme. I haven’t started wedding planning, but that would be a tacky wedding theme, yes? Whatever, I’ll put it on the list, right under “running away to Cabo to get hitched and not telling anyone” theme.