My poor guy. If I didn’t know what kind of engagement ring I wanted, how could he?
A couple months before our official engagement, Arran and I had an uncomfortable conversation about getting married.
Specifically, my dear boyfriend of two years chose a quiet brunch on one unassuming Sunday to bring up the fact that he was reluctant to propose. Or, at least, that’s how it sounded to me.
Some of his resistance, he admitted, had to do with fear. He’d been married before. Would it change our relationship? Much, it seemed, had to do with logistics. “I assume you’d expect a ring,” he said, then trailed off.