Photo credit: Andrew Abogado via Foter.com / CC BY
“Let’s get married.”
“What?” Marcia flung her head back, as though getting a better look at Jordan would help her understand where this had come from.
“I think I want to marry you.”
“You think you want to marry me? Well, isn’t that romantic.”
“It’s not like we have anything better to do tonight.”
Marcia gawked. “You mean you want to get married right now?”
“Why not? I have a cousin who’s ordained. I could call him over here right now and he’d have us legally married in a jiffy.”
“In a jiffy? How old are you?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Only because it’s not a serious question.”
“Of course it’s a serious question. Let’s get married right now. You and me. Why not?”
“Because you’ve had too much tequila.”
“So?”
“So you’re in no state to get married. And neither am I for that matter.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Come on, it’ll be easy. My cousin will come over, we’ll have a really short, but beautiful ceremony, and then we can spend the rest of the night celebrating.”
“And then what? What happens in the morning when we wake up all hung over and we have to live with each other for the rest of our natural lives?”
“Who said anything about the rest of our lives? I’m just talking about tonight. And it is a beautiful night.” He lowered his voice and spoke slowly. Seductively. At least Marcia thought he was trying to be seductive. It may just have been the tequila.
“Yes, but if we get married tonight, we’ll still be married in the morning. What happens if we wake up and realize we’ve made a terrible mistake?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to make any rash decisions when you’re hung over.”
Marcia barked a laugh. “But it’s a good idea to make big, important decisions that will affect the rest of your life when you’re drunk?”
“Of course. When you’re drunk, you’re the most honest version of yourself. When you’re hungover, you’re miserable and you see everything through that haze of pain and misery.”
Marcia’s brow furrowed. “That actually makes a weird kind of sense.”
“Right? And if you wake up in the morning and you want to break up, that’s cool, too. I won’t make a big deal out of it.”
“All right,” Marcia said as she stood up. “Let’s do it.”
Jordan jumped to his feet. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Let’s go. Now. Before I have a chance to change my mind.”
Jordan whipped out his cell phone and started furiously searching for his cousin’s name in his contacts, hoping he could reach him before his bride came to her senses.
Jordan looked down at the array of blank faces on his grandchildren as they stared up at him.
“Is that really how you proposed to Grandma?” His oldest granddaughter, Wendy, had her head cocked to one side.
“That’s really how I proposed to your grandmother. Don’t tell your parents though. They prefer to believe the version your grandmother tells.”
His youngest grandson’s jaw dropped. “Are you calling Grandma a liar?” His voice was a hoarse whisper of disbelief.
“No, no, no. Nothing like that,” Jordan said hastily, waving his hands to refute the accusation. “Just that your grandmother likes to romanticize the past. Not everything was sunshine and roses.”
“You mean you didn’t really present her with a bouquet of roses when you proposed to her?” Wendy was aghast at this slight to protocol.
“No, but I have bought her many, many roses since then, so I think that makes up for it.”
“What about her engagement ring?”
“I got that later. After we were married.”
“How can you get an engagement ring if you weren’t engaged any more?”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly prepared to propose to her that very night. It was more of an impulse. If I had had some time to prepare, I certainly would have bought her an engagement ring and done it properly. As it was I let the old liquid courage do its work and took advantage of the situation when she said yes. She still wanted her ring though, so once we were married and I had had a chance to save up a little money, I bought her a proper engagement ring, just like she always wanted.”
“But the man has to give the woman a diamond ring first,” said Wendy. “Then, if she likes the ring, she says yes.”
“And you wonder why I didn’t buy the ring first,” said her grandfather.
“Yeah,” Wendy said thoughtfully. “The ring you got her is pretty small. I wouldn’t have said yes to a ring like that either.”
“Come here, Wendy.” Jordan patted his lap and his granddaughter climbed up to sit on his knees. “Let me tell you how prenups work.”
The end.