S1E7: With These Mongooses As My Witness

Sticky fingers at the grocery store. Board shorts dropped on a public street. A moving job, a fake proposal, and then—

Wait. Was it fake?

After a week together, with two mongooses and a park ranger as witnesses, he asked.

And she said yes.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:07

I'm Heidi Stark, and this is Pretty Red Flags, the podcast. This is episode seven. And this podcast is three things in one: a true crime podcast because 99.9% of what's in this duet really happened to me. A dark audiobook because I'm reading this chapter by chapter, and a survivor testimony because this survivor is sharing her lived experience, including beyond what happened on the page and what's happened since. Before we kick off today, I have to have a little bit of a rant. A reader decided to reach out to me today to tell me that they didn't like one of my FMCs. For those of you who aren't in the book world, that means female main character. And that's fine. Not everyone has to like all of the characters I like. Not everybody has to understand what I write or why I write it. In fact, I think that if everyone liked everything that I wrote, it would be boring. I wouldn't be doing anything meaningful. I would just be appealing to the masses. But my books ultimately managed to find the right readers. And I've lost count of the readers who've actually reached out to me to let me know how seen they feel and how much they do identify with this particular character that she was speaking about. The one I'm referring to is Ivy in my brand new book, Scar's So Lovely. But I did receive similar feedback regarding Margot, who, as we all know, is based on my real life experience. Heidi is Margot, and Margot is Heidi. Similarly, in every book I write, there's got to be a little piece of me. It's how things work when you're an author, particularly with dark romance. Pieces from my life, people who inspire different characters. There's actually a fun little Easter egg for those of you who follow along and read all of my books. So Pollo from Pretty Red Flags does quite a drastic transformation into inspiring the character of Adrian and Scars So Lovely, but I digress. The particular feedback that came into my DMs was that the FMC Ivy was weak and gullible for someone who'd been through abuse from multiple men. The person said that coming from a similar trauma background, she could understand if it had happened once before, but that people who've been through it multiple times would react differently. That quote, newly abused women can fall back into the abuse as a normality, whereas multiple abuse victims would immediately react to the comments made by the MMC. Categorically, from my own personal experience, I can say that's not universally true. And based on the screeds of readers who reached out to me and let me know they felt seen in this book and how closely they identify with Ivy and see themselves in her, I can reinforce that it's not universally true, not to mention it's clinically incorrect. Trauma bonding and repeated abuse patterns are well documented. Survivors are often more vulnerable to subsequent abusive relationships, not less but precisely because of unhealed wounds. Ivy's behavior is therefore psychologically accurate. So the reader's framework is wrong, not my characterization of Ivy. Research consistently shows that unhealed trauma increases vulnerability to subsequent abusive relationships and does not decrease it. She didn't even finish the book and she's theorizing about a character. She only knew halfway through. I love it when readers reach out to me. But coming into my DMs to tell me this, the parts that made me feel strongly enough to mention it here are that one, it gave off vibes that newly abused versus Vishwur and abused or multiple abused survivors, which gave me the absolute ick, doubled down by the fact that the assertions in her message were incorrect. But second, that I based some experiences of a character on my own lived experiences of abuse, and someone who only read half the book, which is totally her prerogative, but she only read half the book, decided that it was appropriate to slide into my DM and tell me that my experience of how trauma works is well. The truth is experience differ. Let's not make how abused you were be some kind of pissing match. If anyone tries to diminish your lived experience of trauma or abuse, don't let them. It doesn't matter if someone abused you once or 1,000 times. It doesn't matter if you ended up in the hospital or not. It doesn't matter if you're a superhuman that somehow developed hiccups boundaries after one experience of it and it never happened to you again. Or if you've been through a pattern of multiple abusers over decades of your life. It is all about abuse. It is not okay. And your experience is just as valid as the next person. Okay, end rant and back to the story. So last time we left off with Timmy's increasingly erratic behavior, has starting to openly take items like the cast iron skillet from the brunch restaurant, sorry again, Lian Wong, to announcing he is a derelict man child as a huge self-compliment. Not to mention increasingly pushing and crossing Margot's foundaries and finding more bubblegum pink items to festoon her apartment with. Chapter 33, Sticky Fingers, The Past. Grandmother, here, have a great me. Don't we have to pay for it first? Grandmother, shh, don't worry about it. Everybody does it. Here's a piece of candy as well. Me, oh, um, okay, I guess. Thank you. The present. The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead as we weave through the grocery store's wide aisles, tossing groceries into the cart, snacks, pasta, heat and eat pizza, fresh fruit and vegetables, cottage cheese, cheddar cheese and ice cream. Boys ice cream. A playful banter fills the space between the shelves, me teasing Timmy about his love of canned soup while he makes exaggerated faces at my love of ridiculously spicy hot sauce. Everything feels light and easy, the kind of fun that makes grocery shopping of all things feel like an adventure. We sneak in kisses by the produce section, bumping into each other playfully. I laugh as Timmy ties a gillian balloon to the grocery cart, letting it serve as some kind of directional beacon if we lose each other in the store. We playfully argue over what bread to buy as if the fate of all further carbon tape depends on it. Timmy wanting basic white bread, me wanting Ezekiel bread packed with Stephen Grains. As we stroll past the refrigerated section, Timmy grabs a cold surviee from the shelf, one of those overpriced ones with high quality ingredients and twists the cap off without missing a bit. Thirsty, he explains, smiling before taking a long swig, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He takes a couple more long sips and then drops a half empty bottle into the shopping cart. I raise an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping me. You're supposed to pay for that before drinking it, you know. He shrugs, and a couple of minutes later he finishes the smoothie with a satisfying sigh. It's no big deal, he says casually. I do this all the time, I'll just leave it somewhere. Before I can respond, he sets the empty bottle behind a stack of soup can, tucking it away like it's a secret. My smile falters. Wait, you're not actually going to pay for that. He smirks, apparently a little amused by my confusion. Why would I? They charge way too much for those things anyway. Corporate greed. He winks as if that justifies everything, and then pushes the jam pack shopping cart toward the checkout. I trail behind and not tightening in my stomach. He glances at me over his shoulder, noticing my concerned expression. You're overthinking it, babe. Everybody does stuff like this. It's really not a big deal. The way he says it so off-handedly, like it's an inside joke, makes me suddenly feel swallowed like I'm missing out on a secret rule everyone else knows. My mind flashes back to the time my mother and I were in the grocery store when the power went out. Standing in the dark in the produce department, I remember my mum urging me to eat as many grapes as I could. I still feel guilty what we did, even though I know it likely didn't matter in the scheme of things. And the way that my grandmother had the self-entitled habit of helping herself to pick and mix candies and grapes every time we went to the grocery store. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just too uptight. We reached the checkout and I watched as Timmy unloads our groceries with an easy smile, chatting with the cashier like nothing's amiss. My skin prickles with discomfort, but I'm not sure whether it's because of what he did or how normal he's making it seem. As we leave the store, groceries in hand, the moment clings to me like a fog I can't shake. My gut tells me something's off. There's dishonesty in it, a selfishness and sense of entitlement that leaves me unsettled. But then once the groceries are loaded into the truck and we both hop in, Timmy leans over and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me to him, kissing me gently on my forehead. Come on, he says grinning. Don't tell me you've never beat the rules a little. You're so uptight sometimes. His words, light and teasing, poke at something inside of me. I feel a flicker of embarrassment. Maybe he is right. Maybe I'm way too rigid making a big deal out of something so trivial. And he's accurate. Nobody even noticed, and it's not as if the grocery store is going to go bankrupt over one smoothie. Still, the knot in my stomach doesn't loosen. Even as I laugh along with him, my nagging discomfort lingers, an unsettling ick I can't quite brush up. And for a moment, I'm wondering if I'm studying the sectivity in a different light. One I'm not sure I like. So my reaction to this chapter, like you could kind of take it two ways. Maybe I was being really uptight, and he did make it feel like I was the only person in the world that didn't take anything from a grocery store as a matter of course. Um, looking back on it, it was part of a bigger pattern. I think we're starting to see that from the first time that he took me to Sabres and he took the Hydra Flask and the sunglasses and pretended that it was uh oversight on his part to when we went to the brunch restaurant and he took the skillet saying he was going to do it in advance of actually doing it. And now he's drinking smoothies that he didn't pay for. The helium balloons stayed in store that time. We'll see that that's part of something that will happen later as well. So this really started to make me uneasy. Everything he'd done beforehand seemed a little bit light-hearted, charactery, adventurous, but it wasn't leaning so much into criminal territory. Not that this is the most serious crime in the books, but you can be arrested for taking stuff from the grocery store. So anyway, just a little bit of an escalation, but nothing that can be written off. Maybe a small boundary push in some ways. Chapter 34, board shorts off, walls down. The next day. I can finally dive in the ocean. I've walked along the shore countless times watching people splash in the turf boys' waves, wishing I could join them, and now I can. But what makes it even better is that first swim will be with Timmy, my surfer boy. The water sparkles under the sun, and as soon as it washes over my skin, it feels like pure heaven. Timmy's right beside me grinning as I wrap my arms around his neck. The waves lift and cradle us, and he floats me around with ease, his body warm and solid under the water. We kiss, laugh, and nuzzle each other as if we're the only two people in the world. It's impossible not to get lost in the love bubble surrounding us. Floating on our backs we hold hands and let the ocean rock us gently. The sky stretches endlessly above, and the water below is as clear as glass. I've never felt so light, so free, or so perfectly content. Lift your roller back to me, Murmis, his hand grazing my waist. Stick your chest out a bit more. With a few tweaks I feel myself relax even deeper, floating effortlessly. Once I floated so long I fell asleep and I was quite far out in the ocean, to me says was great mischievous. Some guy thought I was dead and ran into the water to save me. I woke up with him carrying me to shore like I was a giant damsel in distress. He was even trying to do CPR. He pauses for effect and adds it felt like Jason McMullow was rescuing me from the ocean. I burst out laughing at a ridiculous image. He's always in the center of each outrageous story, usually involving him as the star of some absurd or mischievous adventure. I can't wait to take you surfing, he says his voiceful promise as we watch surfers catch waves in the distance. We'll have you riding the juggernaut in no time. I laugh again, knowing the Juggernaut is a stuff of legends, one of the island's most notorious surf spots. In winter the waves swell into monsters for world class competition. He grins, all charm and confidence. For real, I have it all planned out. How I'm going to teach you. We'll go out to get her on one board at first. I'll float, float while you catch the way, then you'll paddle back out and get me, and we'll set you up for the next one. I beam at him, my excitement growing. I can't wait. Thank you so much. When we eventually wade back to shore, a woman sitting at the sand waves us over, her phone in hand. This might sound strange, she says with a sheepish smile, but I filmed you two in the water. Can I eardrop you the videos? Timmy and I exchanged glances, slightly bewildered, but we shrug. Sure, I say. Within moments my phone pings and I receive several videos and a few candid photos of us laughing and swimming. One video captures me with my arms wrapped around Timmy's neck, both of us laughing so hard we've dumbled over in the water. It's strange that she recorded us, but it's also kind of nice, seeing us from someone else's perspective, a happy couple lost in our own little world feels surreal. On camera, we look like two people completely in sync, perfectly content to just be with each other. Like a scene from a romance movie or two loved up celebrities being snapped by paparazzi. This is kind of sweet, I admit, showing Timmy the videos. Yeah, he agrees, pulling me closer. That's us, we look so good. After rinsing off at the beach showers, Timmy fusses over me like always. You missed your heel, he says, gesturing at my sand covered foot. I roll my eyes playfully, but secretly I love how attentive he is. As we dry off, we hear the faint strum of live music from a nearby restaurant. Come, Timmy says, tugging my hand with that mischievous grin I can never resist. It's some of the best music on the island. We slip into the restaurant's outdoor area and notice the soft hum of native songs filling the air. Timmy leads me to a sun lounger and places me there with a plaiten flourish. Sit here. He disappears for a moment, returning with freshly plucked plumeria blossom. He tucks it behind my ear just like he did the first time we met, his gaze warm and adoring. So beautiful. But don't we need a big guest to sit here? I whisper, glancing around nervously. Nah, Timmy says with a carefree grin. Don't worry about it. We sit listening to the music, lost in the moment, until a man in a resort uniform approaches, apologetically asking us to move. Timmy doesn't miss a beat. No worries, he says, taking my hand. Let's find somewhere else. And just like that, we're off again, hand in hand, drifting through the night like leaves on a stream. The next day I have my final work called Just Wrap Things Up. I've been dreading it. My boss is always condescending, and I know she'll try to guilt trip me. Sure enough, she delivers her usual spiel. You made the choice to move to Sunset K, nobody forced you, and now you have to deal with the consequences. Her words great on me, but I bite my tongue knowing she's just scared because she knows I'm more confident and better liked than she'll ever be. When she asks if I had feedback for her, I offer a sweet smile and say, No, nothing I haven't already shared. The second I hang up, I let out a loud sigh. Thank fucking God that's over. Timmy sprawled across the bed, props himself up on one elbow, his grin turning wicked. You never have to worry about those assholes again. You've got me now. His voice drops into a growl. Speaking of which, after I'm done with you, let's go visit Sabre again. He yanks off his board shorts. Dot dot dot. Afterward we slip into the shower, the water casco cascading over us as Timmy gently soaps me with his soft lilac shower poof. His tender touch makes my heart swell with affection. When we step out, he tells me off and kisses the top of my head. Now let's go see our fuzzy boy. I look at him feeling a rush of gratitude and joy. Timmy might be a little wild, a little chaotic, but he's mine. And in this moment I know I found the perfect man for me. My reaction to this chapter. I still remember when Timmy taught me how to float properly. It's kind of a cool memory because floating in the ocean or a swimming pool has become one of the things that brings me pure joy and uh peace in a way. And it sucks that that's tainted by him. Still, I'm glad some positive things came out of our relationship, even if one of the main ones was learning to float properly in the water. Floating actually became a way of keeping myself moderately sane for the back half of our relationship, as we'll learn later in the book. The promises of teaching me to surf well still hurt. I probably need therapy over the whole surfing thing. He really took joy in making sure I never did that while we were together. Even though we were right by the beach, and even though he's apparently quite a talented surfer. When the random woman on the beach filmed us, it was this weird, real-life paparazzi type moment. And when I saw us together on film, I could see how happy I was. We looked so cute together. It was our first time in the water together. I just got, you know, clearance to swim after getting my tattoo. And it just all seemed really poetic and meant to be. It's almost like when you have rose scented glasses on the universe senses that it sends more signs your way, even when you're not overtly looking for them. Or maybe that's a consequence of rose scented glasses that you're more open to receiving those signs when they are around you all the time. When Timmy took me to the hotel and we sat on the loungers on the beach and got told off, I remember having this nagging feeling like, are we always going to be sketching around on the outskirts of society? And will we ever get to walk into like the front door of a place without sneaking inside somehow? But at the same time, it was almost like, what is that even as fun? And maybe that's the whole point. The whole work situation was really crazy. So this frontie woman sitting on the other end of the Zoom call trying to do an exit interview with me when me sharing my feelings was a huge part of why I was leaving. And Timmy was so supportive. I felt really loved and not judged by him. And then he promised to see my cat to take my mind off thing. Sadly, at this point in time, it really did feel like I'd found my perfect man and I had so much hope. Chapter 35, moving party. The next day. The day starts with a light breeze and the soft chime of bells as we step into the electronics store. I'm on a mission to pick out a laptop. As soon as my eyes fall on the gorgeous rose gold MacBook, I know it's the one. There's something about it that feels like an investment, not just in my writing, but in the version of myself that I want to become in Sunset K. I picture mornings at the beach, my fingers tapping away as the sun rises over the water, the laptop complimenting the dusty rose and purple tones of the sunrise. Kevin. I cradle the laptop in my arms, excitement bubbling up inside me, and turn to Timmy, who's already smiling like he's enjoying watching me fall in love with a piece of technology. You like it? He asks, already knowing the answer. I love it. I grin. Good. Now come to work with me, he says casually, as if it's a normal part of our day. I blink caught a little off guard. Are you sure I'm allowed to come with you? I've never accompanied a partner to work, except for the one awkward situation where I dated a coworker. Do not recommend. No go, do not do, will end badly, did end badly. Yeah, it's like take your girlfriend to work day, he says it with his trademark smirk. The one where it's tricky to decipher whether he's being serious or trying to charm me into saying yes. I laugh, but feel a twinge of concern. Seriously though, you won't get in trouble. I don't want his boss to think I'm a stage five clinger who expects to follow him around and distract him from getting shit done. But at the same time, I can sit in the corner and work on my stuff while he fixes out the condo. Timmy waves it off like it's nothing. Nah, it'll be fine, or even introduce you to my boss. Come. His tone is so carefree that I feel silly for worrying. I follow him, feeling the smooth rectangular laptop box in my hand. Apple does such a great job of making you feel special when you buy their brand new products, like you're treating yourself to something that you know will do exactly what's promised. And now Timmy wants to spend the rest of the day with me. It's flattering he still wants to spend every waiting moment with me, and it still makes me feel special. But at the same time, a small part of me wonders if this is sustainable. I mean, how many times can I follow him to work without it becoming a problem? He gestures for me to follow him and we head into the admin offices in a hotel building. His boss is nice, an attractive blonde woman with bright pink lipstick and smoky eyes. He introduces us and she makes me feel welcome, although there's a hint of something in her expression that I can't quite put my finger on. She seems more amused than anything else by Timmy's antics, watching him with a smirk as he launches into his usual no filter commentary. He jokes around like they're old friends, and she tolerates it, maybe even likes it. Still I can't shake the feeling that bringing me to work every day might we're on her patience eventually. I don't want to be the reason he gets in trouble. After a while she's clearly done listening to his stories and tells him to get to work. After stopping by a convenience store where Timmy picks up some hard salzes in case they get thirsty, he says with a wig, we head to the condo he's fixing out. I set my new laptop or he tinkers away, tightening light fixtures, adjusting light switches, hanging print. I watch him as I type, noticing how much pride he seems to take in even the small tasks. I can't lie, I find it super hot when a guy does even the most simple at handy tasks. He's had three seltzes by the time I'd done with my first, but he's not tipsy, just a bit more animated, cracking jokes and moving around the room with more energy than usual. By the time he's finished for the day, I'm feeling good, happy. Timmy's work day's flown by and we've had fun together. I feel included, like he really wanted me to be there. And it's cute the way he showed off in front of me, showing me the tasks he was working on and how he focused on making sure he did everything just right. It's the kind of day that makes everything feel easy, like we're in synth. The next day, I wake up to Timmy nudging me. I want you to come to work with me again, he says. I hesitate. Are you sure? I know it was okay with your boss yesterday, and she seems really nice, but she might get tired of you bringing me along every day. It's kind of weird. Timmy frowns, looking genuinely hurt. Don't you want to spend time with me? Of course I do, I say quickly, sitting up. I just don't want to get you in trouble because you feel like you need to keep me entertained or anything. Well, today I'm going to have you help me work, he shrugs. We've got to be moving boxes for one of your clients. You'll get paid and everything. That makes me feel a little better. At least I won't be standing around just lurping. And the idea of earning some extra cash is appealing, as we'll be getting some much needed exercise. So I agree, and soon we're loading up the truck with heavy boxes, Timmy and his element directing me where to put everything. On the way we stop at another convenience store where Timmy grabs water and some flight-sized bottles of fireball. I raise an eyebrow but don't say anything. This is just how Timmy is, a little extra, adding a little fun into everything he does. We make our way to a retro hotel right on the beach, and that's where the real work begins. His manager's client is setting up a condo here as an Airbnb, and our goal for the day is to get all the foxes into her unit. It's hot and sweaty work, the kind of physical labor that feels both exhausting and rewarding. We haul boxes into the service elevator and up long hallways into the client's condo, stopping every now and then to catch our breath. I'm grateful for the exercise and for the fact that I'm not just sitting around like yesterday. At one point we take a break. I notice that Timmy's energy hasn't waned a bit, despite the physical labor and the fireball he's been sipping. Come, he says, taking my hand and grinning, leading me to the secret elevator that opens up to a hidden floor with a panoramic view of the beach and the city behind it. To the right of the elevator is a chapel, and I can't help but laugh as he gets down on one knee, wearing my big floppy hat, a white beater, and a pair of my sunglasses. He looks ridiculous like a knockoff kit rock, but there's something about the gesture, playful and sweet, that makes me feel lighter. He's always finding ways to make me laugh. Afterwards he takes me into the adjacent bar, ordering drinks while chatting with the bartender and enjoying the view. The bartender is friendly and Timmy's in his element chatting away with her about his friend's cacao farm, and I'm learning more than I ever thought I would about chocolate making. There's a part of me that loves how comfortable Timmy is in literally any setting, how he turns every opportunity to show off or make connections. But there's still that nagging feeling like this can't go on forever. When our drinks are done and I've paid our check, Timmy's boss calls to check in. He reassures me that we're almost done and that we just have a few more boxes to move. The remaining boxes are quite heavy and there's no cart, so we haul them one by one, sweat dripping down my back as I shove the last of them down the long hallway to the condo. By the time we're done, I'm exhausted but satisfied. Once we're finished, the client pays us in cash, and Timmy immediately hands me a little more than half of the money. I blink at the bills in my hand. A couple of hundred dollars, not bad for a few hours of enjoyable work. Are you sure? I ask. He smiles and nods. I really appreciate you helping me today. It would have taken way longer and been way less fun without you. I had a good time too, I smile at him, although my muscles ache from the effort, and he leans over to kiss me. I know this can't last forever, going to work with him every day. This boss might tolerate it now, but what happens when she doesn't? And what happens when Timmy can't handle spending a day apart even when it's necessary? For now though, I push those thoughts aside and let myself enjoy the moment, feeling the weight of the cash in my hand and the warmth of his kiss on her lips. My reaction to this chapter, this whole situation really messed with my head. To me, having a job might not sound like a big deal, but in the context of the situation and who he was as a person, who he claimed to be, it lended him some type of legitimacy and credibility. He did know how to renovate condos. He was doing lots of different things from hanging painting to, you know, tightening things, moving pieces from different rooms, um, doing a little bit of wiring work or what have you. So he really did seem to be happy to have this job. Um, the fact that he wanted me to come with him to work did seem weird. And now that I see it was a way to control me and to keep an eye on me even when he was working. But it was fun helping him. The day that we moved boxes was really fun. And he paid me more than half of the cash for the moving job. It felt like we were in a real partnership. I viscerally remember being up top in the chapel at the top of the building and then in the restaurant looking out over the city, sprawling below us, the ocean to one side. I think that was one of the last moments that I felt truly free and in love without a ton of worry hanging over me. I remember him talking to the bartender about how she knew how to process cacao pods and how he had the friend with the farm, and it makes me shiver knowing one day this topic would center around something really dark. It's funny how some things can seem so innocent and then layer and layer into something horrible and twisted, something ugly and wrong. Chapter 36. Well, that escalated quickly. I want to take you to the Botanniple Gardens, Timmy announces. You're going to love it. It's a very Jurassic Park, like with the mountains in the background. And there's this beautiful lake. That sounds amazing. I enjoyed how excited Timmy gets around plants. Yeah, I love it there. I think you'll enjoy it too. It's filled with all of my favorite native plants, and there are birds and stuff as well. I can show you all the wild ginger and palm trees I've been talking about, succulents and so on. I can't wait to take you. We can have a picnic. When we show up, it's stunning, just like you promised. Lush vegetation sprinkled with vibrant tropical flowers. The unique mountainscape looms in the background. I really do feel like I'm in a scene from Jurassic Park. There are more common plants like giant monsteras and plumeria and other exotic ones I've never seen before. I'm going to call my dad, he suddenly says, I want you two to meet. He's really important to me. His dad, being a retired decorated general in the army, is somehow a comfort to me, a bit like his friendship with Steve. Someone who got to where he did in his military career and his impressive corporate career following his military service as a VP for a pharmaceutical company. It indicates there's something genetic in his makeup that makes Timmy also capable of being a productive human. Sure, he has a sister and one brother, both with significant drug and anger management issues, but he also has a brother who has a shit together too. So it's a theoretical possibility he could turn out, well, I guess you could say, well, this is feeling serious, an introduction to the parents already. Hello, son, says an older man's voice on speakerphone. Hey Dad, Timmy Snarls. I want you to meet someone. Margot, this is my dad. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Margot. Hi, Timmy's dad, I'd say feeling nervous. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you too, says the voice. Now, son, girlfriend, you say. Yes, we just met recently and we've fallen in love. Margot's from New Zealand, and we have so much in common. And she takes care of me. She's bubbling with excitement, and I feel myself blushing. Well, son, you certainly need that, his father replies. Someone to take care of you. There's no humour in his voice. The comment unsettles me a little. Timmy's about to turn forty and I'm his girlfriend, not his babysitter. And guess what? She writes, Dad. She's a professional writer, and she writes dark romance, but I tease her and I call it pornography. I'm in love with it, pornographer. Oh my god, I feel my face bit red. Oh ha ha, that's nice son. What are the books called? Oh my god, I say again, putting a hand over my face. This is just what I need. Unexpectedly meeting my boyfriend's father over the phone and him telling him all about my slutty dark romance books. Boy. We hang up after a few more minutes of chatting and find a cute spot down by the water, a little bench in front of the lake. Timmy suddenly gets super excited, even more than normal. He's just about bouncing on his toes. I'm gonna pose you to create a scene, okay? Everyone will be looking. What do you mean? I'm beyond confused. Just trust me, I'm gonna get down on one knee and ask you to marry me. And everyone around us is gonna be like, all the art, and it's gonna be so fun. They might even take pictures of us and put them online. I quick a brow at him. Just for fun, he says casually, nothing serious. I crack up laughing. You're quite ridiculous, but okay. He does as he promised, drops to one knee and asks me to marry him. The thing is, Margot, he adds, I'm not joking. I've never met anybody I love more. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I really do believe you're my soulmate, and I've thought so from the moment I first saw you. And even from the moment we first spoke. I've never met anyone like you. It's like you were made for me. So please do me the honor of marrying me. Please say yes. I'll protect you and keep you safe, and we'll build our dream life together. You're an incredible human being. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never proposed to anyone before. But you're so special, you're so beautiful, you're funny, you're creative, you're sexy, you're extremely smart. You write pornography, and I want to be with you forever. Nobody else. Just you and me together. You make me into a better person, the best version of myself I've ever been. I'm a changed man and you've tamed the dragon that nobody else has ever been able to do. I want to travel the world with you. I want to take the world by storm with our companies. I want to make love to you every day for the rest of my life. I promise you, every single day. He glances over at the two mongooses who are watching us and nibbling on the sausage he threw to them just before. And with these mongooses as my witness, I'm asking you the love of my life, will you please do me the honour of marrying me? Um wow, I say, a tear falling down my cheek. I'm crying and laughing at the same time. Are you serious or is this part of the act? Because that was quite the speech. I'm so thrown, I don't know what's happening. Oh, I'm very serious. He says his face reflecting his earnestness. Deadly. I really want us to be together. Why do you think I called my dad just a little bit ago? I wanted him to hear your voice before I asked you. Kind of like getting his blessing to make it official. That's how important you are to me, Margot. I never want to hurt you, Maud. I want us. You and me forever. Wow, I whispered, touched and also shocked. This is all happening very fast. But sometimes you just know when things feel right, and I'm feeling all the butterflies, and I'm a little lightheaded and tingly. I take a deep breath and he looks at me expectantly. Well, in that case, my time with you has been amazing so far, so yes. I'm swept away by the emotions. I still can't even tell if he's joking. But I feel like it would be rude to say no. I can go along with it now and we'll figure things out later. We both glance at each other and it's as if he's trying to decide if I'm joking or for real too. You mean it? he asks. You really want to marry me? Did you mean to ask me for real? I asked. Or was it a joke, a stunt, like you originally said it would be? Yes, he laughs, tears in his eyes. Margot, I know it hasn't been long. But I love you so much. We're connected at a soul level, and there's nobody else I want to spend the rest of my time on this earth with. You're it for me. I'll never find anyone like you again. Okay, then I'm serious too. I love you. I smile at him. He leans down to kiss me. I love you so much too, my soulmate, my fiance. He turns around. There are a couple of people sitting nearby on a bench and he waves at her. She said yes, they waved back, smiling. A park ranger happens by and he tells them the same thing. Congratulations, he knobs and smiles. He turns to the mongooses. We did it. She said yes. I laugh, so confused by what just happened, although I think we just got engaged after about a week of knowing each other. It's very quick, but everything has been going so well so quickly. How could I possibly say anything but yeah? My reaction to this chapter, oh boy, um, everything happened exactly as written. I can still remember hearing Timmy say to his dad that I take care of him, and the way that his father replied, Well, son, you certainly need that something to take care of you. Someone to take care of you. Trust me when I say that, it's very, very differently now than when he first said it. Um, the words themselves, also the person it was coming from, and what I came to learn about that dynamic. At the same time, um, you know, it did cause me concern, my gut twisted. I think in hindsight, because I could hear the factualness in his voice that Timmy did in fact need somebody to take care of him. Yes, the proposal happened really fast. I think you can hear from it that I wasn't really sure if he was joking or not, and then I got swept up in it. The things he said were very sweet, the setting was absolutely stunning. Um, I was still riding so high on what I know now to be the basically dopamine hit that you get from love bombing, and it just felt right in the moment. Again, him calling his dad added an element of seriousness and gravity to it. I didn't have parents he could call to ask for permission. So the vibe was right. It was almost like we were playing a game of proposal chicken where neither of us, you know, I didn't know if he was being serious asking me. He didn't know if I was being serious saying yes. It was kind of funny, but it felt really, really good. In the next episode, we will learn what Margot's best friend thinks about proposal and her answer. He may not have been as enthusiastic as Timmy and I were at the time. We will meet Timmy's infamous former supervisor who made Timmy look like an absolute angel. We'll make falafel, which will lead to an Instagram declaration of love. We'll meet Rebecca and Jetson, and we'll see Timmy's drunken antics in an Irish car that will cause Margot to look at him quite differently. As always, please reach out. I'd love to hear your stories or what stood out to you about this episode. Don't forget to like and subscribe and tell your friends. And in the meantime, remember, it's not you. You were never too much. It was never your fault. And don't ever create a pissing match over who has the best response to trauma. Until next time, take care.