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Jimmy: Will you marry me?

I choked and spit my coffee across my bedspread.WTF Jimmy?I did. Not. Expect. That.

He couldn’t be serious. Sure, he’d called himself my fiancé last night, but really? It was too much, too soon. He may be worthy of my heart with his humor and sincerity, and he came wrapped in a muscular package that made my mouth water, but I didn’t need to dunk my head in the fountain when I could sip at the stream first. Case in point, overdo it and you could choke. I coughed a few more times to clear my airway. My comforter was toast. That answered the question of what I’d do today; laundry was on the agenda now. I pulled the comforter off my bed as I processed Jimmy’s text.

Marriage was not in my plans anytime soon. I had too much to do. There were school loans to repay and a clientele to build before I could get serious about someone. Dating was fine, but marriage? I shivered. I’d thought Jimmy would be okay keeping things casual. Once you watched a guy lip synching to Shoop while he lifted, mouth forming lyrics about feeling it in his hips with enthusiasm, it was hard to take him too seriously. He was fun to hang out with. Low-key happy hour and a coffee date kept things casual. He didn’t scream ‘marry me and stay home to have my babies’ and that’s one of the things I liked about him. I wasn’t ready for more. Maybe this was his idea of funny? If so, I didn’t feel the urge to laugh.

Terrible proposal aside, it was kind of sweet, even if it was an awful idea. He wasn’t professing undying love. Not just because we didn’t know each other well, but because—text message? Not the way a girl dreams of being asked. In my dreams, I was a successful spa owner first. I’d meet someone, we’d date for a few months or maybe even years until I was sure we’d last in the lovers-and-partners-until-the-day-we-die way my parents had. Then, he’d propose to me while we watched the sun set from our lanai on vacation in Hawaii, or maybe walking home from our favorite restaurant on date night. Three dates followed by a text message proposal never entered the equation.

I tried not to trip as I carried the bulky comforter to my washer and crammed it in, adding soap and setting the cycle. I was afraid to look at my phone again. But I was also curious. What had possessed Jimmy?

I flipped back to his message. His awkward proposal had been sent not long after he dropped me off. He’d waited another thirty minutes before clarifying.

Jimmy: I handled that badly. Let’s talk before you say no. I think I could help you out.

At least he realized I was going to say no. I mean, Iprobablywas going to say no. I chewed my lip. Thoughts I’d been consciously avoiding came crashing through. Expensive medication. Crummy insurance. Inadequate savings. Possible bankruptcy. Moving home. Losing my clients. No dream spa.

I wanted to stand on my own. I didn’t want to take advantage of my parents; they’d worked too hard for too long to wind up supporting a grown daughter. I didn’t want to take advantage of Jimmy either, and his proposal felt awfully like pity. But I also didn’t want to jeopardize my long-term goals with a mountain of debt.

Melena: I’m not sure talking is going to improve this situation, but I’m home today.

Jimmy: Great. Can I come over? Will bring donuts.

My stomach growled. The world would probably look rosier with a few donuts.

Melena: Sure, sounds good.

Before I could set my phone down, it rang with an incoming call from Lisa, and I flopped on the couch before answering.

She didn’t even give me a chance to say hello. “What do you mean you passed out? He’s that good? Details!” Lisa’s excited chatter rang in my ear.

I groaned. “Not that good.”

“Wait. That bad? I’m sorry, Melena. I thought he was worthy.”

“Oh, he might be worthy. It wasn’t his fault I passed out. That was all me.”

“What happened? Are you okay? I thought you were joking,” Lisa said.

“I wish. No, I really passed out. Then he took me to the ER. I’m now the not-so-proud owner of life-saving heart medication worth about my monthly rent.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, exactly. And it gets weirder.”

“Gets weirderhow?” Lisa asked.

“Jimmy proposed. I think,” I added.

“How do you not know? It seems like the kind of thing that should be clear.”

“He texted ‘will you marry me’ last night after we got home from the hospital.”

Silence met my admission. After a few more beats, Lisa responded. “You’re right. It did get weirder. You’ve known him how long? Hasn’t it only been a week or two since you met him at the gym?”

I sighed. “Yes. Last night was our third date. Don’t get me wrong, they were wonderful dates, minus the medical issues, but I’m not ready to say I do.”

“And I don’t blame you. Ninety-nine percent of the population wouldn’t blame you. The other one percent are hopeless romantics. Is he a hopeless romantic?”