Isn't it Romantical?
Today's post is from my friend Fiona who graciously agreed to write an entry. And her daughter even photographed the back of Fiona's head, and then enhanced it with colorful butterflies! DAMN IT! how come neither one of my children has offered back of head enhancements to me?!?
Birthday proposals are so predictable.
Three years into my relationship with my now husband, we hit that ever popular “will he propose to me this year?” birthday. He was finishing up his doctoral thesis and sending out applications for jobs all over the country. I was sure he couldn’t bear to leave me behind – besides, all my friends assured me that he’d sweep me off my feet with a proposal any day now.
My brother-in-law had proposed to my sister at the local ski area where they met when they were teenagers. He involved all of us in his grand scheme where he made a gigantic banner that said “Will You Marry Me” and hung it between some trees. We skied down with her – aiming her in the right direction where she would see him standing next to it with a big diamond in hand. It was so sickeningly romantic I may have gone behind a tree to be sick but I don’t remember exactly. That’s how it’s supposed to be done, right? I was expecting nothing short of vomit inducing romance myself.
So here we are. My birthday. We had gone to a nice dinner and movie – Jurassic Park to be exact. Not really a chick flick but I was so busy looking around the theatre for my banner I didn’t notice. He had given me a couple gifts at that point but 15 yrs later I can’t remember what they were. I’m sure they were nice even if they weren’t precious gems. Then as we pull into my driveway, he says those magic words I’ve been waiting to hear all night:
“Wait, there’s one more gift I forgot to give you.”
Then he hands it to me. My beloved ring box. My heart is beating out of my chest as I slowly lift the lid in anticipation. I’m asking myself things like “Can he afford a 6 carat diamond on a grad student salary?” and “How many bridesmaids should I have?”
Then I see it. To say I was speechless would be a gross understatement. It’s – a little foam dinosaur???? I look at him completely aghast and he says, no lie:
“I thought it was cute since we went to Jurassic Park. It will grow 10 times its size if you put it in water”
I can still hear the car door slamming if I close my eyes.
The real proposal came about 3 months later while naked after a couple pitchers of margaritas. It went something like this:
Me: “So, are we going to get married before you leave town or what?”
Him: “Well, we could. Do you want to?”
Me: “Uh, yeah, of course. So is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
Him: “Um, do you want to marry me?”
Me: “Sure. Can you pass me the margaritas.”
In the interest of marital harmony should he ever find this blog, I feel I should add that it’s been a fantastic 15 years with him. He’s given me 3 beautiful children, held my hand through cancer, and even better, he does the dishes and takes our daughters grocery shopping with him weekly to “give me a break”. My brother-in-law, on the other hand, has never made a grocery list and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have dishpan hands. I guess the moral of the story is: It’s the quality of the marriage that counts not the proposal.