Illustration by Bob AulI'm feeling like the mule with a carrot held forever in front of my face. You keep promising we'll get married, but nothing happens. When I raise the issue, you say I'm pressuring you. When I ask you to marry me, you say it's the man's job and you'll get to it when the time seems right. When I suggest counseling, you say that's for crazy people. When I say I can't stay in this kind of suspended animation forever, you say I'm threatening to leave you and ask me why I'm treating you so badly. Me treating you badly? The other day, you told me you just couldn't promise to love, honor and cherish me for the rest of our lives because you couldn't predict the future but that you didn't want me to leave you. That's when I understood: you think that someone wonderful might show up and you'd be married to me, the mule-faced girl. Suddenly it's clear that you're waiting for the next great thing. Start looking now—if you haven't already—because I'm gone.
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