In my first marriage, I really cannot recall the details. We were never really suited for each other, and I have repressed most of the entire experience. I am happily remarried now, and I can recall very well the circumstance of my proposal to the current spouse. We had dated on the North Shore of Oahu for about a year, and it was really really good. Both of us were divorced, and being with each other was better than anything either of us had ever known before, in our previous lives. At around the one year mark, however, the inevitable economies of the relationship started to creep into the picture. She would spend a few nights a week at my place, and I would spend a few nights a week at her place. We began to discuss moving in together, to save money, and (for me, anyway) that felt like a huge step. And far too much like a second marriage, which I wasn't ready for. We fought, resentment set in, words were said, and it all blew up. We broke up, spectacularly, and in an ugly fashion. Beth and I spent many, many months apart. I carried on, surfing, working, and chasing a variety of skinny-dipping surfer girls. One of them even moved in with me, and I eventually sent that one off to go serve her brief stint in the US Air Force. Eventually, I began to tire of juggling a variety of gals who meant nothing to me emotionally, and I began to miss the one girl who meant everything to me. I missed Beth, and it dawned on me that I may have royally f@%ked-up. I had missed that one opportunity, and all out of a fear of commitment. I contacted her, and tried to get her to meet me and talk about getting back together. She rejected me, as well she should. "You hurt me, you dumped me, and you have been running around with all these other girls. I don't want anything to do with you." She told me to go screw myself, as it should be. Eventually though, she relented, and we met and talked about everything that had gone right, and everything that had gone wrong. I confessed to her that the fear of how our friends and family might view our getting together (so soon after our divorces) had been huge, and all-consuming. But now there was an even greater fear; Losing her forever. She was skeptical, but willing to give it a chance. We began to date again, and hesitantly, and delicately, tried to rebuild something that had once been magical, but now seemed broken. We had a hard go of it. The fact that I had spent some time with some other girls (and one in particular) seemed an insurmountable challenge. We fought in the front seat of my GMC truck one day. "You were all too happy to be scrogging that slut, (insert name here), why should I trust that you won't change your mind again, and go back to her instead of me??" I shouted, "If I wanted to be with her, I would still be with her. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life with her, I want to spend the rest of my life with you! Why can't you get that??" "You want to spend the rest of your life with me? Well, when the f@%k are you going to propose to me??" "All right, right here and now? Okay! Will you f@%king marry me, God-damn it???" "I don't f@%king know!!!!" Eventually she said yes, and we eloped ourselves. Once the anger and the resentment went away, and became replaced by a contentment and a real, loving trust, everything became so very good. We got married, and have been happy together ever since. We've been married for 18 and a half years now, and things are better than ever. Okay, I'm gonna shut up now.