And Isn’t It Ironic? Don’tcha Think?

There is something highly ironic about getting an international phone call about the color of the ring I want.

White gold or yellow. Over a $1/minute phone line.  Couldn’t an email have sufficed?

While we’re in a fight

While I have a high pressure, high intensity deliverable due in a half an hour. While I’m in one of the worst moods I’ve been in since June.

Again…ma-r-iage is a celebration>?!

And I still, after a minute of monosyllabic replies, said, “white”.While wondering to myself in a Sex and the City-esque manner; “if he really loved me, he’d already know I don’t want yellow gold!”

And then I promptly kicked myself, hard, as my feminist/logician leanings kicked in. “Why on earth would you expect him to know what color ring you want. He’s not telepathic. Don’t be one of those girls, Bride of Zilla!”

The now-chastened princess-fairy-queen still managed to get in a small-voiced whine. “But we’ve been dating five years. You would think he would know by now!”

The now softening F/L said gently, “clearly, he doesn’t, are you really going to make a Big Deal about this? Is it worth it? Especially after all you two have been through?”

Well. It was hard to argue with that. And so, I went about my way, trying to get my work done, while trying not to be hurt, while trying not to bitchy and self-righteous about it.

And then he called. Again. And it was very hard to be the silent stoic type when he was going on about saying what he did because he was angry.

And so I let loose. With the worst possible thing I could think of.

I compared him to the Ex.

And that’s when he said good night. You see, selfish as I am, I wanted him to feel as bad as I did for his particular low blow. A little part of me was even exultant. Now he would realize how much he had hurt my feelings.

But then I promptly wanted to strangle myself. It was one of the lowest blows I could’ve come up with.  The Ex is a sensitive subject in our relationship, like most people.   So I said it. And now what? Quid pro quo? I felt, cliche of all cliches, worse than I did before.

He called back an hour later. And said “let’s forget about it”. And so we did, and tried to ease our way back into a semi-normal conversation, and ended on a happier note. “Would you prefer a bigger ring, or a ring with more color? Although I couldn’t really tell the coloring difference until they were under a microscope, honestly.”

*Chuckle*