On my 30th birthday, I found a velvet jewelry box in Simon’s jacket and thought nine years of waiting were finally over. Instead, the box held earrings, and later that night I asked whether he actually planned to marry me. Simon’s answer stunned me. He criticized my cooking, cleaning, attitude, and how much I did to make his life easier before saying, “I’ll put a ring on your finger when you start acting like wife material.” I didn’t argue. The next morning, I cleaned the apartment, made his favorite lasagna, and then discovered something hidden in a desk drawer: Simon had actually scored me like a report card. At the bottom, circled twice, were the words “Wife material — 7.2/10.”
That discovery changed everything. Simon’s parents had gifted us two plane tickets to Las Vegas, so instead of canceling, I packed a suitcase, put on a simple white dress, and called my cousin Ryan to meet me there. When Simon came home and saw me, he panicked, especially after realizing I had found his list. “You… you can’t do this to me,” he said as I walked out. Simon eventually followed me to Vegas, where he mistakenly punched Ryan before learning he was my cousin. Then the truth finally landed: Simon admitted he had spent years judging whether I was good enough for him without asking whether he was good enough to be my husband. He pulled out a ring and proposed, but I said no. No attorney, insurance policy, mortgage, investment, estate, or court battle could have made the decision clearer. Nine years earlier, I wanted Simon to choose me. That night, I finally chose myself.