So I know all the ladies are wondering, probably borderline salivating, about how I proposed to the future First Lady. But there is a sort of disclaimer, I am poor. You can't judge based on monetary value of how I proposed. Just sentiment.
It all starts off with the Pre-story when dealing with the element of surprise. You have to 'set the mood', so to speak. So in passing the night before the big day we were talking about work and what I had to do the next day. With a bold-faced lie, reminiscent of Bill Clinton, I looked her in the eye and told her, "I'm so pissed, I have like 3 meetings ALL in the afternoon, this blows." So now I have a time that she won't call therefore won't question where I am. I also say this knowing that she goes grocery shopping in the morning and does some errands so that assures that I don't get many if any calls throughout the day. Genius I know, but the best has yet to come.
I actually did go to work, but only stayed for 3 hours. Why three hours, you ask? Had to kill time before Jared's opened, duh. But I also had to manage my time wisely because not only was the First Lady going to DeMoulas (you have to say DeMoulas instead of MB when you're about to take 'the plunge'), she was going to get a new camera which I strategically lined her up to get so that she would have it for Friday night. So, because I'm too important to do my own finances, I have a personal accountant (Thanks mom!) whom has to allot checks to us in order for us to take out money so that I don't go out on frivolous spending sprees and come home with Ducati after Gucci after any other Italian sounding thing.
So I plan the time that I leave to go get a check so that I don't run into her at our check dispensing site. Go grab a legit chunk of change to grab this little 'circle of trust' and then head back into P-Town to the Jewelry store. I go in there and tell them, "I'm here to boost the economy." I got a funny look, but I thought it was humorous. Then I purchase this ring and give they tell me, "Well, we'll size it, and you can pick it up in 3-5 days." The look of disgust on my face is literally impossible for me to put to words, so I said the first thing that came to my mind, "No, I'm going to pick it up tonight." The jeweler just looks at me and then goes and talks to the people working in the sizing station. She came back with good news, and I could pick it up around 5. Score one for the bad ass!
At this point it's almost noon and if my calculations were correct she should be leaving to go to {insert discount department store here} to get this new camera. So I figured, I'm going to stop and get a dozen roses along with the 6 bags of Sweethearts I already purchased (more on that to come). I figured I already bought a ring, got an oil change, a gym membership, a shit-ton of sweethearts, why not step up to the plate and throw a dozen roses on my running tab at the local flower shop (that was another lie, I don't have a running tab, but I figure I've lied so much the past few days leading up to one of the biggest days of my life what's a few more). I told them to have them done for the afternoon because I can't take them home right now. Cross off flowers off the checklist.
I pull into the house, and to my surprise, she is home, so on the fly I have to come up with yet another mistruth about why I'm home. I came up with some serious bullshit completely refuting the masterpiece I had already concocted about meetings all afternoon, but it was plausible so it got left alone. Score two for the bad ass! Suffering from malnourishment and exhaustion I sit on the couch with a sandwich and a piece of pink paper I thought was the receipt to the oil change, it wasn't, falls out of my sweatshirt pocket. She asks to see it, so I hand it over to verify my story. Upon opening the receipt she sees the dozen red roses and the price, but the kicker was that the employee at the flower shop, wrote the incorrect date of pickup on the receipt. So she thinks it has affirmed her suspicion that I would be proposing on Saturday when in actuality it was an inadvertent mix up that luckily helped me out. Score three for the home team!
You may be wondering aloud, "what the hell is he doing with these Sweethearts?" When she left for work I made the bed and started aligning the Sweethearts in such a way as to form words. Yes, you guessed it, I was writing my proposal in Sweethearts. But the difficult part wasn't writing how I felt, but actually keeping the 2-year-old away from the plethora of candy hearts when all he wants to do is charge like a rabid rhino, while holding his crying baby sister, proved to be the ultimate task. So now the bed reads, "I've loved you forever, Marry Me?" That doesn't seem like a long message but writing in candy hearts is a fucking bear, so deal.
Some time elapses and I now have the roses in my possession which have been laid on the bed, I have picked up the ring, and now I see the headlights pull into the parking lot, already standing I bolt into the bedroom followed by a bumbling toddler. When the door Opens, I play like I'm seeing our daughter do something funny, and my son took it upon himself to look out the door and point saying, "mamma look" while laughing incurably. So she presumably thinks that our baby girl has hit a developmental milestone, but all the while I have knelt before her and am presenting her with a ring. And to MY surprise, she said, "OMG THIS IS SO CUTE, YES!"
So the stars have aligned, Zeus has spoken, I have been blessed with the opportunity to marry the most beautiful and lucky woman in this world. I'm not sure if it's fitting, but "Damn it feels good to be a gangsta!"
Stay Tuned
Ryan
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