“Um, I think we already covered this. Let me guess, you think it’s too soon. Or you’re afraid I’m going to hurt her. Go ahead, give it to me. Wait, shit! Did she say something to you about not wanting to marry me? Fuck! She’s been acting weird since your wedding, and I know she’s talked a good game about not wanting to get married, but I figured it was just talk. What girl doesn’t want to get married? Oh f**k, Claire is the type of girl who doesn’t want to get married. Oh my God she doesn’t want to marry me,” I ramble as I pace back and forth in front of a display of chocolate body paint.
“Oh for f**k’s sake, calm down, Nancy. I swear the two of you are the stupidest people I have ever met. You live together and you never talk. How is that f**king possible?” Liz asks in irritation.
“What are you talking about?”
Liz sighs. “YOU. ARE. STUPID,” Liz repeats, enunciating each word and making up random hand gestures to go with each one so it looked like she was using sign language. Except I’m pretty sure the sign for “stupid” isn’t a middle finger.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this because Claire is my best friend and this seriously violates the best friend code of honor between girls, but we have a situation on our hands. I am willing to take a kick to the vagina for you when she finds out about this so you better clean out your ears and listen the f**k up!” she says with a poke to my chest with her finger. “Claire has been freaking out lately that you don’t want to marry her because she has this idea in her head that you’re a typical guy and the idea of marriage makes you want to puke, which could explain the purging she did in the landscaping out front. She doesn’t have a p**n fetish. She just didn’t want you to know that ever since my wedding she’s done nothing but think about marrying you, and she’s scared to death it’s going scare you away.”
I stare at her with my mouth open, not sure which fact makes me more sad: Claire thinking I wouldn’t want to marry her or Claire not really being addicted to p**n . That is a problem I'm sure we can overcome together and without the tears or vomiting...unless that was the type of p**n she was into, but I’m pretty sure we can get through that together as well. Maybe. But I guess that’s a non-issue now.
“Okay, then why the f**k did you stop me? I was seconds away from easing all of her fears,” I complain.
“Um, take a minute and look around, Romeo. Do you really want to propose to Claire in front of a display of c**k rings?”
I glance around me and really take in my surroundings and think about what I'm doing.
“Years from now when she’s retelling this story to your grand kids, do you really want her to say, ‘Well kids, your grandfather popped the question right next to the anal beads and ball gags.'?” Liz says in a grandmotherly voice.
“I’m sorry, I don’t get what the problem is here,” Drew says as he suddenly appears next to Liz, licking a sucker shaped like a pair of tits.
“Go away, this is a secret,” Liz tells him.
“Nice try, twat waffle. I heard the majority of what’s going on. And I kind of want to take Carter here out back and rub my nuts on his head for not telling me he planned to propose to Claire in the happiest place on earth,” Drew states, giving me a dirty look. Well, as dirty a look as he can with sugar boobs on a stick hanging out of his mouth.
“Isn’t Disneyland the happiest place on earth?” Liz asks.
“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Drew tells her.
“Look, this was a last minute decision. It’s not like I planned to drop down on one knee in the middle of this place.”
I look away from them to take another glimpse around me.
Why the f**k did I think this was a good idea? Claire would have killed me, murdered me where I stood. My obituary would read, “He died under a pile of pink and purple rubber cocks and double A batteries.”
“I was caught up in the moment and just reacted,” I tell them sheepishly.
Drew pats me on the back. “Awww, you got sentimental in a p**n shop. Will you marry me instead?” he asked with a laugh.
I shut him up with a punch to his chest.
“Wait, if you didn’t plan this, why are you carrying a ring around in your pocket?” Liz asks suspiciously.
“Uh, I, um, kind of carry it everywhere with me,” I tell her, feeling beyond uncomfortable that I'm admitting this out loud. “I’ve had a few proposal plans go belly up the last few weeks. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with the perfect plan and every time, something has gone wrong. I like to keep the ring in my pocket so I can reach in and touch the box. It gives me reassurance to keep trying.”
Liz’s bottom lip quivers and Drew stares at me blankly.
“Dude, you’ve been fingering that box in your pocket all this time? I thought you had crabs or something. I was going to let you borrow my cream,” Drew says with a sad shake of his head. “That’s pathetic. You have officially lost your man card. If you take it all back right now and tell me there’s a hole in your pocket and you were just diddling yourself like the old guy over in aisle twelve, I’ll forgive you.”
Liz pinches the skin of his underarm, and Drew lets out a howl, rubbing the spot that is now turning red.
“Shut up, ass f**k. That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Liz says with a sniffle. “Let me see the ring.”