Anyone who’se been watching The Stacie Show for a while might be wondering about all my recent dating talk, might be remembering that I had a marriage proposal on the table, might be thinking I’ve left out a major piece of the story. Well, you know … you’d be right.
So yes, the last time we saw AC, he asked me to marry him (after a fashion).
And then he proceeded to vanish from the known world. Not, “Oh, we stopped speaking,” or “Oh, we broke up,” but dis.ap.peared. Gone, unreachable, unfindable.
I don’t know what it means. I know what I think it means, but I don’t really know. I feel certain that, if something had happened to him — something awful — someone would have written about it. One of his neighbors, one of my friends. Someone.
The silence makes me think he’s met “a next friend,” as he would say. And there seems to be a kind of Jamaican code that means no one tells me. Here, a friend would drop hints, even pull me over to spell it out. If I were in Jamaica, I’d get looks that might clue me in that something was wrong, but no one would say a word. And with me in another country, there’s no way I’ll hear a thing.
Obviously, my dalliance with Tarik last year was an indication of trouble in my ersatz paradise, but now we’ve reached full-on, paradise lost, on-to-the-next mode.
I’m sad and not sad about it. In my heart and head I’d been broken up with AC for quite a long while before that surprise proposal. And, while the proposal shocked the mess out of me, it didn’t change much. I didn’t run out and begin working on my trousseau, didn’t create a gift registry. It’s fair, however, to say that my pride is bruised. He proposed, after all. How do you ask a woman to marry you and then cut off all communication with her? What is that?
So it’s in my new role as Bruised Pride Girl that I’m diving back into the dating pool. Stay tuned.