He is not the ONE

Did you guys know that I have been engaged?

The piece below was originally written in Spanish and first posted on Facebook years ago, but I always like to go back and read old transcripts of mine. It blows my mind that so much change in regards to emotions and life perspectives, which is one of the main reasons why I love doing the New Year’s letters exercise, in order to keep my emotional development in check. Without any more to add, this is how it feels like when the person that is proposing to you, is not the one. 

It was shivering cold outside I remember, and the bricks of the house didn’t really comply with a warm comfort either. Winters are always depressing to me, and it’s not the empty cold that I can’t deal with, it’s the empty dark that I feel the urge to lit up. But there it was, whether I liked it or not, that dark and depressing day when my heart was doomed to die.

You would think that after four winters with the same person I would try to spice up our hibernating winter routine, but there was nothing else that I rather would have done that day, then to cuddle up with the man I loved, watch a romantic movie, fireplace on, and to share a bottle of red wine. In spite of my desire, he had other plans for us that night. He said that he had made reservation at our favorite Italian restaurant, and that he had a surprise for me, “oh well,” I thought for myself, a little bit of exquisite carbohydrates could not possibly harm one of the many days left of that ugly cold winter.

The place was a magical trattoria, a cozy place with that home-feeling touch. In fact, the restaurant was actually an expansion of the owner’s private house in which he also performed as a chef, and not only had he lived in Italy for 13 years but he had transformed the trattoria to a little Italy in only four thousand square feet. Opera was always playing in the background and Mediterranean architecture decorated the surroundings. As a chef he had clearly deciphered those little secrets that could persuade any taste bud. Each and every plate was carefully put on the menu with tiny personal stories behind every dish from the chef itself, plus a poetic description of every ingredient that you were about to experience. Today’s story: Proposal failure.

I ordered a magical plate of three cheese raviolis with a seafood sauce, and he had a pizza with artichokes, green olives and anchovies. The food was divine; every bite carefully indulged a sense of satisfaction, while the wine numbed away every logical thought process that possibly went through my mind that day. It was all predictably perfect until he said “close your eyes;” it’s time for your surprise.” I could almost hear the drum roll in my head, but in a horrifying way. My delightful raviolis and my burgundy alcohol delicacy had made me forgot that there was more to that cold winter day. I closed my eyes, and of course the curiosity was eating me alive. What could it be? I didn’t see him walk in with any bag or package. His winter jacket was slim and fitted to his body, so it couldn’t be in his pockets, or could it? The time that he had my eyes closed were not for long, so I could not analyze the surprise in more depth. But now that I think about it, if I just had paid more attention to all the previous signs to that cold disastrous winter day, I should have known that in front of my eyes was nothing else then my engagement ring!

It’s amazing how so many thoughts can fly out of your head in a matter of milliseconds. The time span between the actual visual of the ring, looking into his eyes, and to then create an answer to such a proposal, could not have been longer than 5 seconds. But these are the three honest concerns that were slowly processing in my head. These are the concerns that a woman has when she is in front of the one that is not (the one).

1) What. An. Ugly. Ring! I mean, that ring did not even look like the kind of rings that I owned or ever wanted, and this person had lived with me for 4 years in a row, he should have known. It was a white gold ring, a very thick one, with an incrusted diamond, almost like a normal male wedding band. And for those who really know me, it is not entirely about the money (but it can’t be ugly!).

2) Does anyone know about this? Did he discuss this to anyone before popping the big question: my mom, his family, his daughter, or even my friends? I mean, from where did he get the confidence to even consider asking me to marry him? Because we had certainly talked about it and we both were unanimous about not getting married…yet!

3) I have only had sex with three men, including him, in my whole 24 year old life! Man, I was freaking out. Believe me, I don’t care about quantity, but certainly more experience. To put it in a real perspective, I simply felt that I had to bring that number up, at least 2 or 3.

But there I was, 5 seconds later. I felt the burning eyeball feeling and that thick hard fist in my throat. He was after all the man that I loved (at that exact moment in my life). With tears in my eyes, not the joyful tears, but with the tears of knowing that I was going to consciously hurt a person; my vocal cords decided to emit a tiny, plain, weak, and quiet noise, interpreted as “Why?” He responded, “Because you are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with…” [Extract from a larger transcript of my diary – April, 2011]

When I read this all over again, I feel like it comes from a somewhat cold hearted place, but then again it only reaffirms my point exactly; either I wasn’t ready and/or he wasn’t the one. If you are thinking about frivolous details like the ring being ugly or wanting to amp up the number of sexual experiences, then you absolutely have a problem and should probably not go around and accepting marital offers; simple as that.

“The right thing at the wrong time is the wrong thing.”  – Joshua Harris

♥ ♥ ♥

Miss Natalia Silva

Miss Natalia Silva

Chilean-Swedish Lifestyle Blogger in San Diego


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