A recent spate of YouTube videos depicting elaborate marriage proposals got me thinking about regrets. As in, I regret not making more of a fuss with my own marriage proposal.
It was very low key.
Pause here for dramatic effect.
Granted, we’d already decided to get married as evidenced by the fact that we’d gone to the jeweler’s together to pick out the ring and had, in fact, already taken possession of the completed article by the time asking the actual question rolled around. It went something like this;
Girlfriend, lying in bed next to me, “So you got the ring, then?”
Me, fondling my balls, “Yes, it’s here in my bedside cabinet.”
Girlfriend, “Can I see it?”
Me, “Sure, if you’ll agree to marry me.”
Me, “What, you mean now?”
Fiancée, “If you ever want to have sex again, yes.”
Me, rolling of the bed and assuming an awkward knee-bend stance whilst simultaneously grabbing the ring and facing her, all dramatic and romantic like, “So, it’s on then?”
Fiancée, taking the ring, slipping it onto her ring finger and admiring it, “It’s on.”
Like I said, very low-key.
I regret that now, I really should have made more of an effort, but it’s not like she did not know that I was planning on asking her to throw her lot in with mine for the rest of our natural lives, so choreographing an elaborate dance-routine incorporating all the people in our townhouse-complex seemed like a bit of overkill. The ring in the glass of champagne at a fancy restaurant routine probably would not have been too much, though.
Its incidents like that which makes me question the rationale behind sayings like “Live your life without regrets.” I mean, how is that even possible? How do you know while you’re doing something mundane and ordinary that you’re going to later regret not doing that thing spectacularly and extraordinarily?
How do I know whether or not this post is going to come back and haunt me if I should read another one by some other person who describes the whole thing so much better that my attempt looks feeble in comparison? How do I learn to use shorter sentences?
When I was 16 I joined a gym. The first act of this idiocy involved the man there – I assume one calls them “Trainers” nowadays but back then he was just the Gym-Man – tasking measurements of all my extremities. Sans penis. I was supposed to make as big a muscle as I could manage with each limb and he would then measure it and write it down on a big whiteboard that had my name on it. And damn me if he did not ask every time if that was the best I could do.
“Is that the best left arm muscle you can make?”
“Is that the best right arm muscle you can make?”
“Is that the best face-pull you can do?”
You get the drift.
So naturally my tenure there was doomed from the start, what with such an inauspicious beginning, but I do still regret not continuing my term at that establishment. I mean how buff could I have been by now, 16 years later?
When I was 10, a friend of mine joined a boxing club. Later he would beat the crap outta me for not wanting to give him my baseball bat. I really regret not joining him at said club, at least that way I would have known what to do in high school when that other guy chucked a piece of chalk at my head. Instead I got my ass handed to me, again. Funny, he was a boxer too. True story.
This morning, the wife and I were fooling around and I was getting a wristie, which came close to spoiling the party for both of us, so I told her to slow down in anticipation of the main event. Less than 10 minutes later, the pitter-patter of little feet put a stop to all then when our three year old came looking for parental comfort. I regret telling her to slow down because now I have to face the rest of the day with a case of semi-blue balls.
See, living life without regrets is simply not possible. What is possible is to avoid feeling sorry for yourself. Unfortunately, I’ve not mastered that either. What I have mastered is the head in the sand approach. If I can’t see it, it can’t bother me. Much.
So here’s a new motto for you, “You can’t sneeze with sand up your nose.”
Now those are words to live by, baby.