The worst part about the minor meltdown was that The Man was trying (quite rightly) to find out what was wrong, and how could I say, 'it's because I want to be engaged dammit! And I want somewhere to live that has a garden! It's you and the housing market conspiring against me!' Garbled snotty explanations at 11pm must try anyone's temper, but he weedled it out of me anyway, assured me that it definitely all would happen, laughed at my fog-horn nose blowing, and somehow made it all OK. And then next day when I got home from work, hugged me again and checked I was still back in the land of the sane. He is a trooper that one.
Still, there are those people who have asked the $64,000 question - why wait? Apparently my brother was sure The Man would propose while we were away in the States, and mum said my brother was actually quite cross that he didn't. My brother proposed to his wife after six months, and fully subscribes to the 'if you know, you know, so why wait?' school. I think I'm sort of a 'wait a bit and check you can live with their weird habits' person, but if that's all good, yes, why wait? We might get run over by a bus tomorrow, or struck down with some dread disease.
So anyway the upshot of the meltdown is that I feel like I've put pressure on The Man when that was the last thing I wanted to do. Like he said, a proposal should be a surprise. I want to feel that he's done it 100% because he wants to, and I don't want even a tiny bit of the motivation to be because he knows it's doing my head in that he hasn't yet. So now I feel guilty about that too. The rational part of me says that of course The Man wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do, he's almost as stubborn as me and won't be pushed around, but hey, there you go.
Anyway, I must shake my shoulders, give myself a kick up the arse and cheer up, because it's really small fry in the great scheme of things, and life coaching training starts at the weekend. Who wants a gloomy melancholic life coach?