Chapter 3

I let her talk for maybe two minutes, then I asked, "When's the wedding?"She blinked, confused. "What?""The wedding. You're engaged. When is it?""September, but I wanted to explain—"I cut her off. "Cool. Tomorrow you should go tell your parents the good news. They should hear about their future son-in-law directly from their daughter, face-to-face. You owe them that much."She stared at me. "You're being really calm, and it's freaking me out.""What do you want me to do? Beg you to stay? Cry? Ask you to choose me?" I kept my voice level. I wasn't being calm because I was fine; I was being calm because if I let myself feel what I was actually feeling, I'd probably put my fist through a wall. "My girlfriend of three years just walked into my house wearing another man's engagement ring after lying to me about where she was this weekend. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of an emotional reaction. I'm not talking about this anymore tonight. But tomorrow morning, you're driving to your parents' place to share your engagement announcement."I grabbed a blanket and went to the couch. She tried to say something else, but I put my headphones in.Didn't sleep much. Just laid there in the dark running through everything: all those early morning gym sessions; the weekend girls' trips that always seemed to line up with my sprint deadlines at work; the times she'd get texts and smile at her phone before putting it face down. The variable I couldn't quite parse: how does someone live with you, sleep in your bed, eat meals you cook together, meet your family, and simultaneously plan a whole other life with someone else? The logistics alone seemed exhausting.Here's what I decided around 3:00 a.m., lying there on my own couch in my own house: I'm not doing the sad boyfriend thing. I'm not giving her weeks to figure things out, or pack her stuff gradually, or whatever timeline she's probably already planned. I'm not giving her the chance to spin this to her friends and family like we mutually grew apart, or I wasn't there for her emotionally, or whatever story she's workshopping in her head.

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My Girlfriend Whispered, “Please Don’t Be Angry, He Proposed And I Said Yes,”