The Boy Who Cried Marry Me

I have lots more to say about Christmas, but Lee reminded me on the way home from North Carolina that TODAY [for a few more minutes] is our engagement-o-versary, so I thought I’d share a story from December 28, 2003. 

So we were on our way back from this very same trip to see my parents, and we were talking about when we would be getting engaged. Although I knew it was on the horizon, Lee assured me it would be no time soon, and I was ok with this. I wasn’t in a super big hurry, and besides that, it was nice to at least know that every time Lee bent down to tie his shoe wasn’t going to be IT, you know?

Because Lee was one of those types who would all the sudden look deep into my eyes and say:

There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.

And then:

What’s for dinner?

You know the type.  Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be jokesters.

By the fourth or fifth time, I had about had it with the jokes.
But anyway, then we got stuck in traffic on I-95, got home late, had to cancel our family dinner plans at Ruths Chris, and picked up Papa John’s instead. Engagement had flown from my mind.

So when he said he had one more thing for me, and it was IN the Christmas tree, I think I responded something along the lines of, What is it? Bird poop?

Or something equally enthusiastic.

And then he pulled out the ring box from among the branches.

What are those– earrings? I said. More enthusiasm.

And then he opened the box and got down on his knee and said very sweet things that I also made sarcastic remarks about.

And then he opened up the box.


Exact words, people. I am nothing if not totally eloquent under pressure.

And then he asked me, and I wasn’t sure when the part was when I was supposed to say YES. So we looked awkwardly at each other for a second and I think he had to ask me again. It all got kind of fuzzy after that.  And then champagne magically appeared from behind a chair?

I was too confused to even cry, and y’all, I cry a lot.

So that’s the story. Not Publix commercial material, but memorable [to us, at least]. If I had it to do over again, though, I would say

[That’s a weird looking word when you type it over and over, isn’t it?]
And he definitely wouldn’t have to ask me twice.


2 thoughts on “The Boy Who Cried Marry Me

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