Notes 9

I thought she wasn't one to celebrate anniversaries.

When I told her it was a toe ring, she just smiled. It did kinda fit on her little toe. Then she tried it on her ring finger, and it fit. Perfectly.

So we started talking about getting married. It just kind of happened. We both agreed that it was too soon, especially with her college and her job. Things are changing; it's all we can do to keep afloat. We both figured that it should wait until after she gets her degree, so that's about two and a half years, more or less.

Later that night, she shows me her anniversary present for me.

This time around, she's chosen a titanium ring, which she says doesn't itch much at all.

It looks hot on her belly button. Smart girl. Now that's really hot.

Somehow I have to figure out how to set aside enough money for an engagement ring. I can come up with a bunch of bullshit reasons why I want to get her one, but the honest truth is I want everybody to know. Daria is going to be my wife. I don't deny it; I'm warning off other guys. Lay off, she's going to marry me.

Look at this. I'm not coming out and saying it but she's my girlfriend. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. Go the hell away, losers.

I hope to God she never reads this. I sound like a kid.

As if anyone could truly own another person, and especially someone like Daria. It's simply that we have each trusted the other with our hearts.

So lay off, losers.