Categories > Original > Romance > The Proposal
Drunk Love
0 reviewsHe is drunk, and proposes. How does she handle that? Can their love survive addiction?
0Unrated
A wedding? As in, she wants to get married? As in…right NOW?He paced back and forth across his small bedroom.
What have I gotten myself into?
He groaned and smacked his forehead with his open palm.
He loved her; there was no question about that. Not to him, not to her, not to any one else’s eyes.
But, he wanted to do it properly. He wanted to have a life started, a job at least, to support the start of a family. He hoped she understood that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her.
Of course, it was his fault he got the wedding ball rolling. Once you plant the idea in a girls head, you’ll be hard pressed to silence it.
It all started with a bottle of rum.
He had a bit to drink...more than he maybe should have. He ended the night of alcohol, sprawled across her bed, sweating and crying. She watched his tears and responded with tears of her own. Suddenly he grabbed her arms.
“Please, please,” he said in a tear-garbled drunk speech. “Please, don’t leave me ever ever…”
She panicked. Anything she said could make it worse. “I won’t. I’ll never leave you. I love you. Please relax…” she stroked his forehead gently with her palm, “Everything is going to be okay…” she said as much to calm him down, as to calm herself. He grew incensed, and began begging, his tears flowing like mad, his face full of agony.
“I have something to tell you…I still have feelings for my ex…” he added sadly. He leapt up from his position lying on the bed, and attempted to fling his arms around her. Begging and pleading, he tried to hold her tightly, while she tried to push him back down, and dry her clouded eyes.
“Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic….” She said out loud to herself. He was so wrapped up in his own drunken stupor; her words were only for herself.
She leaned in to kiss him. That seemed to calm him.
“Please forgive me…I’m sorry…I love you so much…don’t leave me, don’t leave me…” he repeated, his volume growing as his sobs deepened.
She caressed his pained face. It was agonizing to see him like this…so vulnerable…
“It’s going to be alright…I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere..”
She stood up to turn off the light, and his bellowing grew. He reached for her arm to pull her back to the bed. “No, no! Come back, don’t leave me!”
“I’m here, okay, I’m back, calm down…” she tried to sooth him.
“Will you marry me?” He said suddenly.
Her eyes seemed so sore by this point. The sudden request seemed like a slap in the face after he mentioned his ex…She was the one here tending to this drunk and broken boy. Why would she get mention? Jealousy and pain raged within her, being bludgeoned at the same time by an uncontrollable love and need to help him and be there for him regardless.
Knowing if she said ‘no’ to him at this point, he may stay up all night crying.
“Yes my love, I will.” She said softly, wishing upon wish that he weren’t drunk, that he was seriously asking her… “We will talk about it in the morning…” she continued, knowing full well, if he remembered anything at all from this night, he may be less than willing to bring it up.
“You promise? Never leave me?” He continued.
“Never. I’m yours always.”
She said it, and she meant it. She had no intention of leaving him. Even if staying with him meant a life of sitting bedside to a drunken man, she would do it. She didn’t trust anyone else to treat him properly, to care for him when he was sick or had too much to drink. How could she let anyone else touch his face lovingly and tell him that everything would be okay? She didn’t want any other person in the world to take her place even right at that moment. This was the role she wanted.
“I’ll always be here. I’ll always take care of you…” she said through tears.
She managed to slip away for a moment to close up the room, and then she slipped into bed beside him, where she cried herself to sleep.
Why cry? She asked herself. Her head was spinning with so many thoughts. Everything seemed so wrong and yet so right.
In the morning, he recalled little of his stint from the night before. Her face was pained and he yearned to know why.
She could barely bring herself to speak about it in more than a joking tone at first. Eventually of course, they had a talk.
“You change when you drink.”
“Really? I don’t think I do…rather, I never noticed.”
“Of course you don’t notice. I don’t like it, and it hurts both of us when you drink.”
“I can’t help it. I’m an alcoholic.”
“We can work on this together, let me help you.”
“It’s inevitable. My Dad is an alcoholic, and my mom almost was…it’s going to happen.”
“You’re not them! You can do this!”
“Help me then…”
“I will.”
They didn’t often fight…and if they did, it was just arguing. This was their most common dispute. Once he saw that he hurt her, he would give in and placate her fears, but then she’d find him drinking again, and she felt lied to. It was like he chose the alcohol over her.
They would go out and she’d watch him go back to the bar, three, four times. She would make a comment after every beer. Then beer became vodka, and vodka became an attitude and drowsiness. Drowsiness became a headache and they’d have to go home.
She was worried about him. Why didn’t he care about himself?
At the end of the day though, she stuck by his side, as he did to hers. Despite her nagging him to curb his habit, and despite his constant drinking…they wanted to be together, and for always.
He knew now, pacing his room back and forth, they would get married. Not right this very moment…first he’d have to make sure the time was right. Then came the hard part…convincing Mom.
What have I gotten myself into?
He groaned and smacked his forehead with his open palm.
He loved her; there was no question about that. Not to him, not to her, not to any one else’s eyes.
But, he wanted to do it properly. He wanted to have a life started, a job at least, to support the start of a family. He hoped she understood that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her.
Of course, it was his fault he got the wedding ball rolling. Once you plant the idea in a girls head, you’ll be hard pressed to silence it.
It all started with a bottle of rum.
He had a bit to drink...more than he maybe should have. He ended the night of alcohol, sprawled across her bed, sweating and crying. She watched his tears and responded with tears of her own. Suddenly he grabbed her arms.
“Please, please,” he said in a tear-garbled drunk speech. “Please, don’t leave me ever ever…”
She panicked. Anything she said could make it worse. “I won’t. I’ll never leave you. I love you. Please relax…” she stroked his forehead gently with her palm, “Everything is going to be okay…” she said as much to calm him down, as to calm herself. He grew incensed, and began begging, his tears flowing like mad, his face full of agony.
“I have something to tell you…I still have feelings for my ex…” he added sadly. He leapt up from his position lying on the bed, and attempted to fling his arms around her. Begging and pleading, he tried to hold her tightly, while she tried to push him back down, and dry her clouded eyes.
“Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic….” She said out loud to herself. He was so wrapped up in his own drunken stupor; her words were only for herself.
She leaned in to kiss him. That seemed to calm him.
“Please forgive me…I’m sorry…I love you so much…don’t leave me, don’t leave me…” he repeated, his volume growing as his sobs deepened.
She caressed his pained face. It was agonizing to see him like this…so vulnerable…
“It’s going to be alright…I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere..”
She stood up to turn off the light, and his bellowing grew. He reached for her arm to pull her back to the bed. “No, no! Come back, don’t leave me!”
“I’m here, okay, I’m back, calm down…” she tried to sooth him.
“Will you marry me?” He said suddenly.
Her eyes seemed so sore by this point. The sudden request seemed like a slap in the face after he mentioned his ex…She was the one here tending to this drunk and broken boy. Why would she get mention? Jealousy and pain raged within her, being bludgeoned at the same time by an uncontrollable love and need to help him and be there for him regardless.
Knowing if she said ‘no’ to him at this point, he may stay up all night crying.
“Yes my love, I will.” She said softly, wishing upon wish that he weren’t drunk, that he was seriously asking her… “We will talk about it in the morning…” she continued, knowing full well, if he remembered anything at all from this night, he may be less than willing to bring it up.
“You promise? Never leave me?” He continued.
“Never. I’m yours always.”
She said it, and she meant it. She had no intention of leaving him. Even if staying with him meant a life of sitting bedside to a drunken man, she would do it. She didn’t trust anyone else to treat him properly, to care for him when he was sick or had too much to drink. How could she let anyone else touch his face lovingly and tell him that everything would be okay? She didn’t want any other person in the world to take her place even right at that moment. This was the role she wanted.
“I’ll always be here. I’ll always take care of you…” she said through tears.
She managed to slip away for a moment to close up the room, and then she slipped into bed beside him, where she cried herself to sleep.
Why cry? She asked herself. Her head was spinning with so many thoughts. Everything seemed so wrong and yet so right.
In the morning, he recalled little of his stint from the night before. Her face was pained and he yearned to know why.
She could barely bring herself to speak about it in more than a joking tone at first. Eventually of course, they had a talk.
“You change when you drink.”
“Really? I don’t think I do…rather, I never noticed.”
“Of course you don’t notice. I don’t like it, and it hurts both of us when you drink.”
“I can’t help it. I’m an alcoholic.”
“We can work on this together, let me help you.”
“It’s inevitable. My Dad is an alcoholic, and my mom almost was…it’s going to happen.”
“You’re not them! You can do this!”
“Help me then…”
“I will.”
They didn’t often fight…and if they did, it was just arguing. This was their most common dispute. Once he saw that he hurt her, he would give in and placate her fears, but then she’d find him drinking again, and she felt lied to. It was like he chose the alcohol over her.
They would go out and she’d watch him go back to the bar, three, four times. She would make a comment after every beer. Then beer became vodka, and vodka became an attitude and drowsiness. Drowsiness became a headache and they’d have to go home.
She was worried about him. Why didn’t he care about himself?
At the end of the day though, she stuck by his side, as he did to hers. Despite her nagging him to curb his habit, and despite his constant drinking…they wanted to be together, and for always.
He knew now, pacing his room back and forth, they would get married. Not right this very moment…first he’d have to make sure the time was right. Then came the hard part…convincing Mom.
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