“I had this awful premonition that something was wrong”

It was the sixteenth of October and I was getting ready to celebrate my 29nd birthday with my fiancée, Lawrence.

We had been dating for over a year, and he had asked me to marry him the previous weekend.  I was surprised because he had expressed so many times that marriage was not for him.  My parents were ecstatic and they were dropping hints that it was now or never for me, that if I didn’t accept his proposal, I might never get another opportunity.

What confidence they had in me.  And what a wonderful time it was for me; or, rather, what a wonderful time it should have been for me.  Let me explain.

There was something about Lawrence that never seemed to be “exactly” right.  I mean, he had a wonderful personality, an excellent physique, good looking in a rough sort of way, and a very sharp sense of humor.  What’s wrong with that?

Well, there was always something a bit secretive about him.  It was as if he was holding something back, but I could never put my finger on it.  So here I was awaiting Lawrence to come over on my birthday, and I had this awful premonition that something was wrong, that today of all days, I was going to learn something about my fiancée that could possibly ruin it all.

And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I felt this way.  Lawrence had never given any indication at all that something was wrong.  But as I was about to learn, unfortunately my premonition was right on target.

Lawrence walked in and I could see in his face something was askew.  I had never seen that look before and asked if he was OK.  He nodded he was fine, but he looked very, very serious.  My folks were in the room, and I asked if he wanted to go somewhere and have some privacy.

We went in the den.  I held his hand and told him I had this feeling from the moment I had awakened that something was terribly wrong with our relationship.  He simply looked at me and asked how I knew.  I just said I did and to please tell me with your words.  You see, at that moment I wasn’t at all sure what he was going to tell me, and I was kind of bluffing that I knew precisely what was wrong, when, in fact, I didn’t have a clue.

But he took the bait, sat on the edge of the loveseat and looked at me for a very, very long time before speaking.  Finally, he blurted out,  “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.  I’m leaving for New York in the morning.”

It was at that moment that I read his mind.  “It’s Marsha,” I said.  He nodded and asked how I knew since he had never mentioned her before.  “Honestly,” I replied, “I didn’t know until this very moment and I think I plucked her name out of your head.”

Well, our relationship ended right there.  I was devastated as were my folks.  So I’m out in the “singles world” again and surviving.  I don’t like it and would rather be settled down with a husband and kids, but at least I didn’t marry someone who was waiting for his old love to ask him to return.  Which is exactly what happened.

T. Wellison
London, England