A Detroit Pistons game was playing somewhere in the background of the bar as I sat down in a smoky corner with my fiancé.  We didn’t look like the type of seedy folks who normally hung out in such a dive, but she and I had been coming by here regularly for years.  We always liked finding the dingiest, dirties bars and talking to the people who worked there, the people who hung out there, and anyone else who wandered in.  They always played the type of rock music we liked too.  I had actually proposed to her at another dive across town.  I hadn’t planned it or anything.  I just came out and asked.  Now a year later, she was breaking up with me.  She said we’d gotten engaged too quickly we might have, given I proposed after only dating her for 6 months.  But I was happy the whole time and I thought she was as well.  Part of the problem was we wanted different things in life.  She still wanted to go out every other night and have a good time while I wanted to settle down with someone.  Her parents also didn’t like me and mine hadn’t liked or disliked her, but they would have preferred someone without tattoos who didn’t smell like smoke all the time.