He asked me to marry him. We had just finished our second year of college.
It wasn’t so much a proposal of marriage as it was an invitation to save him
from drowning. (I came to this conclusion years latter). At the time, I immersed
myself in the question for about a minute, then said yes. We’d have a happy
life, I’d devote myself to it, make absolutely sure that it happened.

How positively young & naive (let’s not forget... stupid) I was to think I could
have a happy life with this guy. K was always the life of the party...even when
there was no party. He was always the center of attention, making people
laugh. But when he was down, he was WAY down. He’d get in these moods
& become so blue that I couldn’t reach him. If I persisted & tried to help
him out of his funk...BAM...the verbal abuse would start. He’d go into a tirade
& call me every name in the book. He’d always be very sorry later. He’d come to
my dorm room with flowers & jewelry...he even wanted to give me his
car once...(like I said...I was young & stupid at the time...I’d kill to have that
car now...did I mention it was a Corvette?).

After being engaged for a week, I gave him his ring back. Being with him was
always exhausting & I didn’t think I could survive a lifetime of
his hit or miss behavior.

If I had married him, today I’d be a corvette driving, insane woman
with a huge ring...& those things wouldn’t have made up for the lifetime
of rescuing & abuse I would have been in for.