My Adult Observation

"Will you marry me?" he asked, looking down at me with wide blue eyes. His hands shaking with excitement, his belt buckle swinging in the wind.

I considered his proposal and then the timing of it. It wasn't exactly romantic. As a young girl I had never considered that my first love, the only man I have ever been completely infatuated with, would ask me to be his wife while I was giving him a blow job outside of Oceana nightclub.

"I'm sorry," he said, as I got off my knees. "I... I've been wanting to ask you for weeks, and I just... I just got so excited just then I just shouted it out."

I stood facing him. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Will you?"

I thought about it. I should be the happiest girl in the world right now. I have loved Luke for years. We have been dating for 6 years. 6 long happy years of devotion and commitment. But at this very moment in time I didn't feel anything, nothing but confusion.

"I need a drink," was all I could say.

He took my hand and led me back inside Oceana, ordering two vodka cokes from the bar, pressing my palms within his, asking for some sort of acknowledgment from me.

All I could think was that I needed to be irresponsible. The thought of marriage suffocated my emotions. It made me feel like I was being locked in a prison cell, the prison guard taunting me with the key and then walking away with it swinging from his belt.

"Mary," said Luke. "Are you okay?"

No I wasn't. I looked at Luke. I love him so much. But I am 22 years old. The world is in the palm of my hand. The opportunities are endless, but not if I'm married, and not if we have kids. I mean how many married women go out clubbing? And how many do oral in the parking lot?!

And then it hit me. I needed one last fling. I didn't want to have sex with any one but Luke, so going to a swinging party was out. But I wanted to see if anyone but Luke would have sex with me because if I accept this proposal then that's it. He is it. Luke is the one.

My last thought circulated my mind as I sipped at the vodka coke in my hand. A man walked past us and brushed his hand across my bum, giving me a wink making me picture the prison guard I had imagine and his swinging belt; marriage isn't a life sentence, it's what I have always wanted.

"Luke," I said, his hands in mine. "I would love to marry you."