Home Australia LIZ JONES: In which I asked him to marry me… but I wasn’t expecting his response

LIZ JONES: In which I asked him to marry me… but I wasn’t expecting his response

0 comment
LIZ JONES: In which I asked him to marry me… but I wasn't expecting his response

Oh God. I don’t know why I did this, hastily, on the evening of February 29th. Leap Day. I took a leap. Maybe because I have a completion date at the parsonage and I need help, someone to share it with and who is willing to change light bulbs*, haul boxes and dog sit. Cook.

I sent this. To David 1.0.

‘Will you marry me?’ Thats it. Short and to the point.

Then I fell asleep and forgot all about it. This morning I check my emails, the news headlines and finally my personal messages. Oh God. There is a shower, like unusual snow, from David.

His lyrics are as rare as a snow leopard. What happens? Will he complain about my column again? Or my last text telling him he needs to do more to have me in his life than sit on a chair and watch The hunt and smoke?

I put off opening his texts until Friday afternoon.

LIZ JONES In which I asked him to marry me…

OK, I’ll go in… I read his reply. Then read it again. I burst into a huge, unexpected laugh. I literally can’t stop my face from wrinkling.

‘Hello. I only just saw this. I don’t know the rules in this situation, the woman asks the man. But I’m sure I’m allowed to answer as soon as I’m asked, even if it’s the next day. After all, it is March 1, St. David’s day. ‘Yes. Of course I want to marry you. You know I love you with all my heart. XXXXXX’

Oh God! I didn’t expect that, or my reaction to his cheeky, forbidden yes. I am so brave! I have never ever asked a man out or called him first. Or sent two texts in a row. Or been completely naked, ever.

It seems impossible after all we’ve been through

It’s like an episode of Married at First sight, except that we have known each other for 40 years. I already have the engagement ring from the last time he proposed, a few Christmases ago; luckily as Nic has not long put it on Ebay to finance my house purchase deposit. If I tell her to remove it, she gets suspicious.

Then he writes: ‘I don’t want to have to give you 12 pairs of gloves. I would only get the size or color wrong.’ Tradition dictates that if a proposal is rejected, the man gives gloves so the woman can hide her embarrassment.

Suddenly I’m transformed into a throwback to the 1950s.

I start looking at wedding venues, even though there’s hardly anyone left to invite: they’ve either died or fallen out with me. I must apologize to my best friend Isobel who still won’t speak to me after I told her about our failed trip to Totnes. I start browsing wedding dresses. I wore a tux to my first wedding: I was so insecure about my femininity, my body, my right to even look like a bride.

I’m so much more confident in my desirability now than I was 20 years ago: having someone who says he loves me is a big part of it. Honeymoon Destinations: I’ve already emailed him to say he’s paying for this bit. Oh God! If someone had told the shy, acne-covered me back in 1983 that we would one day be married, I never would have ever believed them. It seems impossible after all we’ve been through. Other spouses, other countries.

Lots of me abusing him in print. I actually have, and please don’t fall behind, a spring in my step. It’s spring. I am counting the days until I move into my new house, a magnificent rectory with large windows, a stone staircase, original fireplaces.

Of course, he can’t move in until his cat dies, but in the meantime, we’ll be like Woody Allen and Mia Farrow, minus the horrible child abuse charges.

I can definitely make him over. Cast. Send him to Turkey to get new teeth. Force him to exercise by covering my walls with Paint & Paper Library colors. I wonder if he can solder.

Poor, poor David. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into…

*I bumped into my electrician, Kevan, at the bank and he has agreed to fix my spotlights, so the pressure on David to perform is a little less. In one respect.

Jones moans….what Liz hates this week

  • The hairdresser’s mirror. I looked up by mistake on Wednesday. I looked like Prince Philip, very close to the end.
  • The Barclays branch in Richmond, North Yorkshire, is closing this year, meaning a two-hour round trip for local businesses depositing cash and for older residents who don’t bank online. What will become of the building? Another terrible vacation rental, no doubt

Contact liz at lizjonesgoddess.com and find her @lijones goddess

You may also like