That day. I wasn’t drunk. I was drinking at a friend’s wedding. But I wasn’t drunk. I was crying because I was so happy for her. She finally got married to the man of her dreams. Someone whom she told me she might possibly love for the rest of her life.
Isn’t marriage such a wonderful thing? Two people, in love, pledge a vow, and become one. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.
I love weddings, I love the idea of marriage; two people coming together to commit to something, to brave through storms and whatever nots together. Always, together.
That day. I wasn’t drunk. But I texted you anyway. Maybe I was trying to use being drunk as an excuse to tell you how I felt. How I’ve always felt.
I told you that I was at a friend’s wedding, and you asked when will mine be. And so I said, “when someone proposes to me. Are you up for a challenge? Are you willing to take a chance?”
You didn’t respond.
A part of me wished that you were seriously thinking about it. But a part of me knew, you chose to brush it off, so as to not spoil our friendship. I apologize for my ‘drunk texts’. For asking you to take up the challenge you never thought about, the chance you never wanted. But, I just thought you should know, I love you anyway.