(I’ll cut to the ending first. It’s Monday morning and I know I’m not firing on all cylinders yet.)
Once upon a time, a boy asked a girl to marry him.
It was on a beach in Rhode Island, a few hours after they had to change their plans (both places he wanted to take us to eat were closed) and the girl became hangry. (Don’t mess with my blood sugar, ya’ll). Because the boy knows the girl so well, he knew he couldn’t do it without her having eaten first.
The girl had WAY too much homework to do, and was slightly stressed and grumpy (also, she had not showered or washed her hair). The boy said “we drove all the way down here, let’s take a walk.” The girl grumbled. She does that occasionally.
The boy was acting weird, and the girl was suspicious. He hugged her and say sweet, sweet things, and the girl said “Are you proposing to me right now?!” (Nothing gets past me), followed by the boy on one knee and the girl shrieking and shaking so hard the boy thought she would pass out (See why it’s important to eat first!).
The girl had forgotten her phone at home so they couldn’t take any pictures. (In hindsight, it’s kind of nice to have that memory all to ourselves). Instead, and because she has a habit of doing this, the girl made the boy take home a rock.
A giant rock to commemorate the day, that’s now used as their doorstop.
The girl got another rock too.
But that’s not even her most favorite rock, the most important one that she is so happy and proud and ecstatic to have in her life.
That would be this guy.
Oh, right. And I said yes.