Limos are Outlawed…AKA How We Got Engaged…

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So obviously, I said yes.  But the story is ever so much fun to tell, and I am really tempted to tell this story as a toast to my new husband on our wedding day, but not sure if that would be crossing the line.  I mean really, he’s got it coming, but do I want to spend the first moments of our marriage torturing him? 

Rewind to three weeks before the YES.  My guy tells me that he’s going to a batchelor party on the upcoming weekend and that strippers have been completely outlawed by the future bride to be of our friend.  I’m on the fence about the whole stripper/batchelor party thing.  It doesn’t really bother me when it’s a man who wouldn’t go to titty bars otherwise.  I always try to work in a “titty” into my posts.  Anyhoo, my guy tells me that the party will be a bbq at his friend’s house with all the guys.  Great, I say, go forth and party. 

On the evening of the party, I invite some friends over for some drinks.  I get a phone call from my guy around 10:30 who is obviously drunk as a skunk asking me if we want to go for a ride in the limo with him and the guys.  I pass because we are having a good time on our own.  I ask who has paid for the limo, and he tells me that the father of the groom paid for it.  How.  Nice.  I go to bed around 1am, and apparently the limo drops off my guy at 5:30 in the morning.  He sleeps alllllll day.  I mean all day.  He wakes up around dinner time. 

The next weekend is the wedding.  As my guy is an usher, we go to the rehearsal dinner.  While I am standing in a circle of strangers talking to the bride, I mention that it was so nice of her FFIL to pay for the limo at the party.  The bride and all of her friends uncomfortably stare at me as if I just said the stooopidest thing ever.  Well it turns out later that it was stupid because the bride-to be-pulls me aside and says, “I was under the impression that Aaron paid for the limo.  I thought you knew.”  There goes my jaw.  And my bladder.  And my humility…out there on display.  Suddenly I realize that everyone has been REALLY nice to me tonight.  They probably think that I’m either a really cool girl for not putting up a fuss over the limo or a really stupid girl for not knowing what her fiance does.  Turns out, I’m the later. 

Out in the parking lot on the way home, I point blank ask my FI who paid for the limo.  He confesses.  I ask him why he lied, and he doesn’t really have a good reason.  I point out that he just made me feel stupid in public in front of strangers.  He feels bad, yadda yadda yadda.  Whatev.  We go to bed.

Next morning:  I start to wonder how much this limo cost.  At this point of our relationship, I should point out, we are living together, we need a new roof, and I want to be engaged.  He refuses to tell me.  OH NOW I NEED TO KNOW, BUDDY.  Thinking that it was around $300, I overshoot it and say, “$500?”  Him, “Higher.”   Me, “$700?  $1000?  $1500?”  Eventually, him, “It was $1700.”  Bomb.  Explosion.  Silence.  I don’t know what to say.  I went in the house and sat in the shower for an hour because I knew I could be alone there.  He left.  And I decided to go for a run to clear out my head before I call the movers to help me pack my things. 

Okay I’m gonna go ahead and leave this as a cliffhanger.  Aren’t I clever to trick you into coming back tomorrow to get the rest of the story?  Really it’s because I need to get in the shower now and go to work.  I hate work.  Come back tomorrow for the dramatic conclusion!

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