From future Mrs. to Miss-Me-With-That in 24 hours - A Bougie Bachelor Chronicle


Buckle up, BougieLand. And then let's count how many relationship "What Not To Do's" went down. Without further ado (but with a little bit of my editing), the heretofore delinquent member of the Georgia Boyz with his own Bachelor Chronicle:
Bougie People,
I'm Shawn. The Keyser Söze of the UGa APhis living lives in the Greater Dallas Metroplex. Word on the yard is that someone has started referring to us as The Georgia Boys. Which would be okay if it didn't sound like I should have a banjo in my hand and a Fry-Daddy sitting on the front porch or standing on the wrong side of Peachtree wearing a trench coat and a ski mask in June. Where was I? Oh. Deep inside your mental minds with my Keyser reference. I'm in the background, doing what needs to be done. If we were Boyz II Men with extras, I'd be... oh, still Shawn. This is all you need to know about me. 
I have had a girlfriend. One year, two weeks, one day and eighteen hours that lasted. She was in serious contention to become Mrs. Söze. Paula and I met at work: dated, clicked, boom. We are both in technical jobs, we both come from large families, we have complimentary tastes in food, movies, music, life plans. I tend to take a direct path from A to Z, she sometimes gets hung up around J and K but ends up at the same place. We vibed. We spend spent a lot of our time together but still maintain separate houses. Overall, the going has been was easy. 
Not to say that we haven't had ups and downs along the way. I've found that as a grown-damn-ass man, I prefer to be asked to do something rather being told or ordered. I prefer that a potential lifemate actually express her displeasure for something I've done rather than go mute, breath fire out of her eyes and when asked what the dealio might be, receive the ever-so-helpful one word answer of "nothing" or my favorite "figure it out."  
She, no doubt, preferred that I stay and finish an argument rather checking out after a certain amount of time and retreating to Shawn's Man Cave with Bose headphones, an Xbox controller and a medicinal bottle of aged amber beverage. She also did not care for my obsession with Atlanta Braves baseball, my ability to tune her out from time to time and the odd habit I had of throwing all the clothes into the washing machine regardless of color and delicacy. I'm a man. I do man things, okay? 
As I said, we had our ups and downs. But things have had been good. Almost eerily good. Until last weekend when we went from "Oh baby, move a little to the left" to "Everything you own is in a box to left" in about 24 hours. Friday, I had finished breakfast and was walking towards the garage when she stepped into the kitchen wearing some applause-worthy lingerie. She asked if I felt like being a little late for work. Hell yes I did. And I was. Very late. So late that I ended up staying late to wrap up a project making me late to pick her up for dinner. Once a month group dinner with the Georgia crew and significant others.  
Maybe I was still hazy from the breakfast booty but Paula looked especially lovely that evening and I said so. Her reply, "I hope you appreciate it." That gave me pause and all my happy haziness went away. Every once and a while, she could get in "a mood" of sorts. I hoped it wouldn't be one of those nights. But my hopes were in vain. 
Somewhere between salads and entrees, Trey someone started teasing Michele and 3N about weddings. In true bougie gangsta fashion, 3N said, "Shawn and Paula have been dating a lot longer, why don't you start planning their honeymoon for them?" Laughter from everyone but Paula who announced. "Why aren't we?" 
"Why aren't we what?" I looked at her from the left and sideways knowing she was not truly trying to have this conversation at table full of people. 
"Why aren't we planning our honeymoon?" 
"Because I haven't proposed?" I could have said it nicer but facts is facts, people.  
"Why haven't you?" Ask anyone, she was almost shrieking at this point. 
Now everybody at the table is giving each other the "this is mad awkward" looks and praying for food to arrive, a tornado to strike, some kind of diversion from the scene in front of us. "Paula." I said as calmly and quietly as I could. "Do you want to go home and discuss this?" 
"No, I want to discuss it here and now. Why haven't you proposed yet? And for the record, if you don't propose before Christmas, we're done." 
Please scan up the page to where I unequivocally stated how much I hate being told what to do. I'll wait.... okay. To try and diffuse the situation, I smiled and said "Well, this drama right here is not helping your cause." 
She told me to do something anatomically impossible to myself. Picked up my damn car keys from the table and walked out. After I finished dinner - what, I wasn't supposed to eat? I accepted a ride home and broke into my own damn house. She was standing in the kitchen and asked me, "So are you going to marry me or not?" 
"Not tonight, I'm not." 
"I'll be by for my stuff in the morning." I tried to talk to her. She walked out. I locked the door behind her. I tried to call her, she blocked my number. And that was that. So perhaps someone in this magical place you call BougieLand can tell me - what in the entire eff was that?
On the one hand, Shawn could have handled this with a wee more sensitivity. But in Shawn's defense, I've never seen her act like that. Ever. She's been just really good people. Until she flipped out at the table in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Have you ever watched a relationship break up right in front of you? Not comfortable. BougieLand, we're taking bets that they'll be back together in two weeks blaming this entire incident on a hormone imbalance. Then again, maybe there's some subplot going on that we don't know about. But in the meantime - what's with the ultimatums?! WDDDA? Thoughts, comments, just glad it wasn't another of Trey's stories this time?