How anal sex ruined my relationship

The evening was so perfect I thought he might propose. But he had a very different proposition in mind

By Marilyn Friedman
Published July 13, 2015 12:00AM (EDT)
      (<a href='http://www.shutterstock.com/gallery-2214230p1.html'>Gabor Balazs</a> via <a href='http://www.shutterstock.com/'>Shutterstock</a>/Salon)
(Gabor Balazs via Shutterstock/Salon)

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m at the W Hotel in Manhattan with a boyfriend I’ll call Liam. We’ve been together for over a year, and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life: He’s going to propose.

The night so far has been perfect. We’ve just come back from a party. The champagne arrives from room service in a silver bucket. Liam hands me a glass. His piercing green eyes and jet-black hair are striking against his white tux. He motions for me to sit next to him on the bed. “I want to ask you something,” he says. My heart is pounding as I stare at the twinkling Manhattan skyline.

I stick my hand under the pillow, because I always imagined that when a man proposed, he’d hide the velvet box there, like an adult version of the tooth fairy. But there’s nothing under the pillow. It’s probably in his pocket. I sip my champagne and...

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Marilyn Friedman

Marilyn Friedman is a freelance writer who has been published in the San Francisco Chronicle, Narratively, and The Frisky. She co-founded Writing Pad, a creative writing school in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Online.

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