26.11 that damned crazy hormone…

Getting married is supposed to be something that is happy and exciting. Why did such a proposal make me cry? Is it the fact that there was no ring? Was it because the celebration was over cheap Turkish wine and homemade tuna pasta? Was it because Ben had said, “I had an elaborate plan to ask you on top of the Maramara but I just didn’t”? Was it because it had to be done in 3 weeks and I had no opportunity to celebrate with my friends and family? Was it because an hour into the celebration of our engagement, Ben asks to go read his book? Is it because we just need a way for me to go with him to Melbourne?

Perhaps it could be a combination of all the above. As a matter of fact, it was a combination of all of the above.  Storming out of the anger filled room during our first real argument felt horrible. I couldn’t believe our first major fight was about marriage. This isn’t just your normal everyday relationship. This is absolute madness….

Or was it? Maybe it was absolutely extraordinary… in a great and amazing way? What was I doing? I had come this far, moving across the world for a man I had known for a month. Why was getting married after 3 months so insane? This was my opportunity to completely embrace life and love to the fullest. Jumping into the deep end and feeling every strand of my hair get blown across my face before feeling every cell on my skin get soaked by ice cold water on a sweltering day might be just the next step into this adventure. Taking this leap may just be the best decision of my life. Marriage is supposed to be between two people, not between two people and their countless friends and family. Marriage is not about the material goods of a diamond, an elaborate engagement party, and all the bullshit women get caught up in.  Getting married is about celebrating the love, starting a life together, and making that special promise to one another.  Until death do us part.

I sat there alone in the dark living room staring out to the Marmara Sea. Jesus fucking Christ. I pinched myself for a minute and realized…wow, I am in Istanbul. I am living a dream. This is exactly what I’ve wanted…for so fucking long.  Love. Adventure. Adrenaline. Happiness.  Now that I have it all, I am fucking everything up. Why do women carry this crazy hormone and how do I get it surgically and permanently removed from my brain? I want to get married. This is exactly what I wanted from Jamey all those years…some romance, some spontaneity, some lets get crazy kind of love. But he just was not the right person to give it to me.  Now that I have it with the man of my dreams, so why I am trying to talk some sense into it? What am I doing??? I should just be the free spirit that I am and for once, do something for myself. I need to stop thinking of what everyone around me thinks and just do what I feel is right. Being with Ben feels right. Who is everyone else to judge this?  The cheap Turkish wine and homemade pasta over candle light with the amazing view was the perfect setting for a proposal. It was sincere, romantic, and said from the heart.  That is all I could ever want. I cannot imagine my life with Ben.  Who am I kidding? So at 3am, I chose love. I say I do! I wanted to jump up and wake Ben up and say fuck everything I just said. Let do this!!!! I decide I will be considerate and wait until morning. I crawl back into bed next to my love and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

But this morning, I wake up to horror to find that I had convinced Ben otherwise. He no longer wants to marry me. All my rambling on about how I wanted it all and properly had convinced him that I was right. This was not the way we should get married, he says. It needs to be done properly, we will have to find another way to get me to Melbourne… repeating my foolish words from the night before My heart sank. My poor little heart has been ripped open and torn in shreds. I needed to get out of there. I contemplated packing my suitcase and heading to Ataturk Airport and spending the next 3 weeks in Paris with Katie and burying myself in cheese and croissants while I try to mend yet another heartache.  But I can’t run away.  I figure I will start with a run. A long fucking run. That I did.

Two hours and 19km later, I sat in the middle of the living room in my sweat dried lululemon run get up craving a shower. My future was unknown and my heart was broken. I had no job, no career, no home, no belongings, no where to go. Ben and I have not broken up but I had no energy for a long distance relationship. That is precisely why I moved across the world. I am in between a rock and hard place, where getting married seems like the only real option for us to be together. Jesus, why am I walking in Liz Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love/Committed shadow? I should have finished her second book to see what actually happened. I thought it was shit but it would be really useful to me right about now. My dear Universe, give me a sign. What am I supposed to do? Haven’t you put me through enough pain for the year? Shouldn’t there be a threshold one must endure? What are you trying to tell me?

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