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I put the forms away until about 2 days before surgery, hoping the magic answer would come in my sleep. When the time came to fill them out, I had only come across one person that made sense. You guessed it, Wine Guy. The way things feel and are between us these last few weeks and months, how prominent we have become in each other's lives, make it seem like a no-brainer. I trust him more than anyone and it's starting to feel assumed that we are "together forever." But we're not talking buying a couch together here. This is life and death.
So finally I bit the bullet and passive-aggressively asked him what he thought, "So, I have to fill out this stupid Advance Directive form where I designate agents to make medical decisions on my behalf if something goes wrong."
"Yeah?" he replies over the phone.
"Uh huh. I'm putting my mom down as first choice but kind of think I should have a second just in case, you know. But I don' t know who to put."
Awkward obvious silence.
He replies, "Well, you could put me if you want."
"Can I? Would that be weird?"
Here's where my communication skills turn to crap. Instead of saying that I feel he is, without a doubt, this important to me and I would love for him to play that part, I make it sound like he is weird and crossing the line for even suggesting it.
He replies somewhat hesitantly, "I don't think so. Do you?"
Luckily I catch myself.
"Not at all. It's just a lot to ask and don't want you to be uncomfortable with it. It's a pretty big deal."
"Go right ahead. Put me down."
So I did and if felt right. But later that night as I was trying to sleep, it occurred to me. I just gave Wine Guy the full legal authority to put me out of my misery in case of a medical mishap. At this point, shouldn't we just be married? I mean, is there any difference?
So how's this for a marriage proposal, "So, as long as you have the right to kill me, how about putting a ring on this finger?"