the way i see

it, we have two

options:

a)

be each others

One. give me the

ring,

leave the wedding

to

me; and soon we'll boast about this

diaper-changing Happily

Ever After at

dave and sharon's

wine tasting.

or b)

not. it'll be

an explosive

end

to the best thing

you

ever had; or perhaps we'll just

get bored, become each others

mistakes to look back on,

laugh nervously, and

(please dear god) change

the subject.

a lot of

presure, don't you

think?

we'll either get it right;

or we won't.

our cells will

have been made from the

stardust that

designed the universe;

or they won't.

you'll either

be holding my hand as

i'm dying

of Being Really Old,

explaining

to me in exquisite

detail how

all the kisses, fights, days

lying in

bed, late night ramblings,

inside jokes

and timeless stories have

made this life

of yours so worth living;

or you won't.

and we will either be

#REALRELATIONSHIPGOALS;

or we won't.

a lot of

pressure, don't you

think?

i've tried to explain to

my mother

but she won't have it -

hence why i'm

here today. you've chosen

a coffee

shop, which, according to

every

love song and romantic

comedy

i've come across, is a

good sign. of

course, your drink is a more

caramel

brown than it is black, but

i'm willing

to overlook this for

Love.

the way i see

it, we have two options:

a)

leave. i could leave

you with your kind

smile,

your contagious

laughter

(and the check); and you could reject

me for every flaw i

try to cover up with

sarcasm and some

witty banter.

or b)

we could spend

the rest of our short lives

convincing

ourselves our cells came from

the very

same

creation.