How He Proposed

So last weekend was what I suppose is the "Official" proposal, or "How Nem Got Her Ring." The unofficial proposal was equally sweet and binding and kind of involved Gentleman Friend being just a tiny bit bossy and high-handed. It was hot, believe me.

And even though we were engaged from that point, GF still wanted to be able to do something special. And like I'm going to turn down special. I figured it was coming when he called and told me that my ring wasn't going to be ready for the weekend. Because that's the lie boys always tell. I didn't spend all those years listening to "How He Proposed" stories without learning a little something about subterfuge.

So the following Friday after The Lie Men Tell went like this:

7:45am Left my house and found a Toblerone bar on the hood of my car.

10:00am The library opened. Two adorable moppets walked up to my desk carrying a small basket containing double-cream French brie, Wensleydale, and crackers.

11:00am A woman walked up to the front desk and handed me a vase of flowers.

12:00pm A man walked up to my desk and handed me Cadbury drinking chocolate and sticky toffee pudding. I started to think that maybe a pattern was forming here.

1:00pm A woman handed me a massive basket filled with English chocolates and biscuits, including a Cadbury Whole Nut bar the size of a laptop. I passed out and had to be revived. The rest of the library staff started watching the clock with me.

2:00pm I was at a friend's house eating lunch when the doorbell rang. His sister's boyfriend handed me a bag of Lion House rolls and a jar of jam. I started worrying that maybe I'd been implanted with a transmitter.

3:00pm Cute little cousin handed me a carton of Ben & Jerry's peanut butter & chocolate ice cream, which is what GF left on my desk one day last fall when I was having a horrible, awful, no good, very bad day. Which prompted Cicada to curse my name for being a blind, blind idiot.

4:00pm GF's sister brought me my secret white-trash pleasure, even bags of Cheetos and Fritos.

5:00om GF's sweet little nephew and cousin turn up with a bag from London Market containing a bottle of Schloer and a 4-pack of IZZE Clementine sparkling juice.

6:00pm GF himself turned up to take me to dinner. Said we needed to stop by his parent's house and grab something.

Turned up at house to find rose petals scattered on the front porch. Opened the door to find trail of petals leading to his bedroom--wait, sorry, wrong story--to the back patio, where a table was set up with red roses and candles and all my favorite songs playing on his iPod. So that's where we had dinner. The salad course was a Cafe Rio salad, the main course was sushi (brought over by one of the neighbors). During the main course he lied again about the ring not being ready. The desserts were puffed pastries in the shape of swans, filled with custard, cream, and strawberries, from the amazing Sweetly Divine bakery (also delivered by the neighbors).

My ring was in the dessert box. Which I think is infinitely preferable to being in the dessert, because once I hit custard I don't stop. And that could have been awkward.



And of course I was so impressed by the ring (and the box, oh my gosh a box with a light in it!!!) that I started chattering away about that before realizing that GF was still kneeling in front of me with the patient, eyebrows-raised, whenever-you're-finished look he has. So I shut up. And he asked me to marry him, and I said yes. And then I tore into my puff pastry swans.


Here's how it looks on my finger. Go ahead and make cracks about my stubby pinky. Go ahead, because I don't even care.