Cliffhanger

I had stopped talking out loud to photos of The Man (only marginally above the crazy cat ladies in the disturbed behaviour scale, trust me), stashed the photos away and even binned his old rugby jersey I used to sleep in. 

And then came the flowers and the phone call and he had roped his way back in again. 

Yes, the phone call. I know leaving you with that kind of a cliffhanger wasn't the most gracious thing to do, but I needed a bit of time to process what was said (and most importantly: what wasn't).

He apologizes for not getting in touch earlier. But it had taken all this time to realize how much he wants me in his life. He misses me terribly. Hates not knowing where I am, if I'm ok and if I need help. He hates not having me in his life and wants to know if we could still be an item. He thinks we are so good together that we should "make a go of it". (make a go of WHAT, exactly?)

Buoyed by my friends' supportive pep talk about how I deserve to be treated better I told him we've been through all this so many times and I have heard him say all those things so many times- only for nothing to come out of it. And I told him I don't need all this mess, all this drama (yes, I said that. Me! Voluntarily announcing a retirement from drama!). 

He hadn't expected me to pick up the phone and had planned a speech he'd deliver in my voice mail. I haven't seen anyone struggle so much trying to put together a coherent sentence since Colin Firth in King's speech. He said he wasn't good with words and I said I couldn't think of a better moment to get it right. I said I didn't want to assume, connect the dots, analyze or read between the lines. And that I definitely wanted to make sure I wasn't reading too much into anything- that what ever he wanted, he should say it out loud in way that was coherent and unequivocal (Ahh. I do wish Dr. Phil wasn't the only person on the planet to use that word. I love it.).

He struggled so hard and I was so nervous that I repeatedly missed parts like "so, where do you want to get married then?". 

Yes. That's what he meant by "making a go of it". 

We joked. We laughed. I cried. He said he's not going to propose over the phone as he knows he needs to do it properly, in a "public place where I in turn can humiliate him by turning down his proposal". This is his Grand Gesture- calling me just to tell me he's not going to propose?!

But apparently it's very much like real estate- it's all about location, location, location. So I suggested Times Square on New Year's eve. All those millions  and millions of people and their iPhones should guarantee maximum exposure to that- hell, the proposal would be on Youtube before he'd even manage to finish the sentence! 

I told him to get off the phone as he clearly has a seriously grand gesture to plan.

So, stay tuned. I'm not sure I'll settle for anything less than a private Caribbean island  rented just for us, New York Philharmonics playing Händel in the background, dolphins jumping out of the sea in moonlight in heart-shaped formations... and a ring sparkly enough to impress Steve Wonder.