He proposed, then he took it back. I didn’t care about the church, cake, flowers, or if I would or wouldn’t wear a big dress; wasn’t important to me.
I loved his strong, manly arms. Masculine energy that he was not ashamed of; in this day and age that’s a rarity. I wish he could be my husband. I’m afraid that maybe he doesn’t love me. Maybe he cannot commit. Maybe it’s old fashioned.
He said it’s because of principle. I called him a bigot. My mum was relived because after all, two men cannot marry in this country anyway.
This is simply a 100 Word Very Short Story
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