Unconventional Commitments

Chapter One
One Sure Way to Ruin My Birthday

I tell myself to take a deep breath. Colin will not do this to me. Sure, he was in Gryffindor but no way does he possess bravery enough to go through with it.

This doesn't calm me. I can see it by that happy-nervous look on his face. Oh, God, he is going to propose. Shit. Colin is such an unbelievable git – how can he do this to me!? Things have been going…well, not great, but all right. Steady is a good word, I suppose. Why is he ruining it?

Dessert arrives and I place a strained smile on my face — this is not happening to me. I glance at my cake in suspicion – what if he told the cook to put it in the cake? I look around the room in distrust; they are all in on this. Everyone here is attempting to contribute to my downfall. It's a conspiracy, I tell you.

I look across the table to the sweating face of Colin Creevey. I have only stayed with him this long because I thought that he would never have the guts to kiss me, let alone propose. Come to think of it, we haven't even really kissed yet. I mean, we've kissed chastely, but nothing beyond. Three months and no sex: that has to be a record of some sort.

I think that his family is weirdly religious or something. Like, they don't believe in doing anything before marriage. I practically gasp, if he doesn't think that he can do anything (i.e. sex) before marriage, then that's all the more reason for him to want to get married! Oh, God. Why didn't I think of this before? Stupid, Ginny, stupid!

I push the dessert away from me with a sweet smile as if I'm not freaking out. "I'm actually not hungry."

He nods slowly and stands up, "Alright then."

I look on in horror as he gets down on one knee. He's seriously going to do it! Shit, I have to do something…anything…

"Ginny," he begins as the entire restaurant takes notice and several females sporadically burst into tears and how lucky I am. "I love you," he continues nasally, "and I will always love you. You were there when I took my first magical picture, you were there for everything and I know that you love me just as much as I love you. Will you marry me?"

I can't breathe. Somewhere in that inarticulate speech he had said those words — the words that every female supposedly longs to hear…not this female, though. God, I don't know what to do, the entire restaurant is just watching me, and Colin looks like a damn puppy dog with his pleading eyes…

"I, uh, I…" I can't marry him, I know that much. But public humiliation seems rather harsh. I mean, it can scar him for life. What if he ends up in therapy and all he tells his therapist is how this one horrible girl ruined his entire world and — Oh, God, this is going to turn him gay. He is going to hate women because of me and my rejection of his proposal. And then his family will turn against him because they are so weirdly religious and weirdly religious people are against homosexuality. And then his young life will tragically end because —

"Ginny," he whispers, "are you okay?"

My eyes dart around the room, women everywhere are swooning at the idea of a marriage proposal. Why couldn't this have happened to one of them instead? I stand up and place my napkin on the table. I have to get out of here…So I do the only thing that I can think of — I run.

I run straight past Colin and dart out of the restaurant with amazing speed. Once I am a safe distance away, I take a break; it's truly a miracle to be able to run in high heels. After panting for a few moments I settle for a brisk walk. I feel relieved and horrible at the same time.

I know it was cowardly and wrong to run, but I couldn't think of any other option. I can't stand the idea of marriage…it's like an allergy or something. It makes me uncomfortable, and then I start to itch, my eyes begin to water, and sometimes I sneeze. It an illness, I'm telling you. There should really be some sort of medicine or something to prescribe for it…but alas, there is not. So I'm stuck single for the rest of my days. Not that the thought of being single bothers me, it's a title I'm rather partial to actually.

It's not that I hate the concept of marriage per se…it's just that it isn't for me. Sure, it seems like a nice enough idea on the surface: you always have someone to hang out with, someone is always there for you, and there is someone to split the cost of living with. Great idea, right? Wrong. It seems great, but it is in fact a brilliant conspiracy invoked by men thousands of years ago. They make the idea of marriage seem pleasing, they find some innocent unsuspecting female to marry them, and then bam, the female is enslaved to the shudder-worthy term of wife.

She is the sole responsibility to everything. She is expected to have a job and then surrender half her pay to her husband. She is expected to cook, clean, do laundry, and any other domestic household chores that the husband can think up. And does she even get a thank you? No, because this is her sworn duty, she should do it happily and then wear sexy lingerie in attempts to lore her lazy husband into bed where she will initiate oral sex on a nightly basis, because women truly love giving oral sex, you know. Yeah, right.

And from there the factor of children enters in. Now, I like children, I really do. I'm always up for babysitting every now and then. But as for having children of my own…it's an even more thankless job than being a wife. The husband is not nearly as bad as the children. Now, I feel like a selfish cow and a horrible person, but if everyone was just taking and taking and taking…I would go absolutely mad.

I'm not particularly nurturing by nature anyway. If I had all these people depending on me I think it would just bear down on me until I did something drastic. Like run away. And I'm already running before I even getting to the wife part…so it appears that I am a hopeless cause.

I should really be put in some sort of scientific study. And here we have Single White Female Number Five. This particular female is of the most peculiar nature — she seems to seclude herself from excessive male attention. While she is not antisocial she will only spend a few days with one male. Let's dissect her and find out why she is so odd.

Sorry for being weird and gory by bringing in the dissection factor, but Hermione told me about this muggle science biology. It's just wrong, this biology, they take living things, kill them, and then take them apart just to see what's inside! That's what my father does with bloody radios and televisions, and they are doing it with live things.

Anyway, back to my extreme issue with commitment, one issue at a time now. I probably am a minority with this, as so many women get married and they seem perfectly fine with it. Minority or not, though, it doesn't change my feelings on marriage to see other people basking in the matrimony sunlight.

I get bored with guys after a few months of dating. To spend the rest of my life with one man, any man, would definitely bore me. You wake up, he's there. You eat breakfast, he's there. You go to work, have a few blissful hours without him, but then you come home, and he's there. You fix dinner, eat dinner, and he's there. You go to bed, he is still there. And then the whole thing starts over again.

It's just repetitive and the idea of the same person day in and day out…ten hours a day with one man for at least the next forty years of your life. That's over 134,400 hours with one person. Are you kidding me? How can you not desire to kill them after that long? Divorce is not encouraged in the Wizarding World, you marry it's for keeps. It's a huge step—a huge fall in my opinion.

I have been walking a good distance before I suddenly remember that my wand is in my purse. My purse that is currently slung overtop my shoulder...I feel unbelievably foolish that I haven't remembered it before. I have been walking for more than an hour…in stiletto heels that are giving me blisters with each step. Resisting the urge to just hit myself over the head for my stupidity, I take out my wand and prepare to apparate. But to where?

Normally, I would go to my apartment. But I share an apartment with Hermione…which is the same thing as sharing an apartment with Ron — can't get one without the other. And I am in no mood to see my brother, or to hear a lecture from Hermione on why one must confront one's fears head on.

And I can't go to the Burrow. My mother would flip if she knew that someone proposed to me and I rejected them. I'm twenty-three now, almost past the marrying age in her eyes. She almost has me written off as an old maid.

I then remember with a wash of self-pity that it is my birthday. It is my twenty-third birthday and I am alone on a strange looking street walking all alone. My feet are killing me, my shoes are most likely ruined, and my now ex-boyfriend had destroyed my week by issuing an unwanted proposal. Happy Bloody Birthday to me.

So I have the ability to go somewhere instantly, only I have nowhere to go. How perfect. I take another step before deciding that it doesn't matter where I go, I am getting off of this sidewalk and out of these shoes. After a moment of indecision I decide on the Three Broomsticks — Merlin knows I can use a drink…or ten.