The Blog Goddess

DISCLAIMER: The following post was not written by me! It is from guest blogger Smarticus, a friend of mine who doesn't have a blog but I've offered him space on my blog to write about whatever. Apparently, yesterday Smarticus decided to write about me...

So I've been friends with this girl for the last five years who now runs a very popular DC blog. I knew her when she was a poor graduate student working at a craptastic clothing store, and ultimately introduced her to the person who actually employed her after graduate school in the field that she loves. For this alone I should receive a sainthood. While mercifully avoiding her attempt to set me up with the female segment of the great-unwashed-masses that read her blog (no offense), I have followed her through thick and thin in her dating life until she met a certain guy.

A certain guy she has been dating for quite some time. A guy that she is crazy about and by all accounts is crazy about her.

I have had no problem until now. The thing is, she keeps dropping, well, *hints* about marriage. Repeatedly. In her blog. I want to barf.

This isn't the good kind of barf that you do when you've drunk too much or when your tummy is upset. This isn't even the slight hiccup that accompanies a too saccharine movie, usually involving Leonardo DiCaprio and an utterly unforeseen plot device, er, iceberg. Nor is it a reference to the chef from the '80s hit children's show "You Can't Do That on Television" or the John Candy character from Spaceballs.

Rather, it is the full blown stomach-churning wrenching that accompanies a topic so nauseating that I am spending part of my Sunday writing about it.

Sweety, you are a big girl. If you want to get married, get down on your knee and ASK him. This isn't the 1950s. You write about Obama and AIDS and sex and (gulp) Christmas shopping. If you can write about that, you can be a grown-up and do this. I'm sure you can even find the perfect outfit in which to do it.

But spare us until you do. I love you, sweety, but enough is enough. There's no more pepto in the carton. The tums are out of stock. The porcelain god is refusing offerings.

Of all the things in your relationship, the asking is the easiest; the aftermath is the hardest. So don't be passive/aggressive about it. This sets a pattern you don't want to follow. You don't want to be the nag. The scold. The ball-and-chain. The killjoy.

So be bold. Ask. Or don't. Or talk with HIM about whether/when you will get married. But stop hinting around. I can't take it and it's bad for your relationship. Just set me up with someone cute at the wedding. 'Kay?

OC girl comment: First of all, that is very sweet of you to call my blog 'very popular.' I wouldn't go that far, but I do have a fair amount of loyal blog peeps for whom I am very grateful.

Honestly, I never thought of those posts as nagging or even hint-dropping. I was just being raw and open. I don't censor myself at all in this blog (and very rarely in life, now that I think about it).

I could never propose, even though the thought has crossed my mind. I'm willing to wait for the dream proposal.

So, thinking about getting engaged is actually emotionally exhausting. I think I will definitely keep 'marriage' related posts to a minimum.

Thanks for the post, Smarticus.

UPDATE: I can't believe I overlooked your "unwashed masses" comment! My blog peeps are super fabulous people!