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Part Two of our Engagement Story


Whaaa?  Have I provided you with breakfast sausage this fine Wednesday morning?  No, readers, those are just my fat fingers.  Looking at my hand right now, I realize that my fingers look different after having dropped a little weight but seeing as my camera is aaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllll the way on the other side of our house, and I’m le tired.  So for now, you get fat fingers, but that’s my ring.  So again, you know I said yes.

We left off with Aaron leaving and me going to the local track for a run while I clear my head on how to make my move out of the house that we shared.  After running a couple of laps, my phone rings, and it’s my dad.  I answer, and he can tell right away that something is wrong.  I am a weakling, and I spill the beans.  I usually don’t spill the beans to my father, but he was the first human that I came into contact with, so he heard my fury full force.  I will have to hand it to my dad…the words he chose to share with me that day probably saved my relationship with my FI.  After hearing how hurt and embarassed I was, my dad empathized with me by sharing some stories from when he and my mom struggled in their relationship.  He shared some things that I had never known about even though I am very close to both of my parents.  He shared with me one particular story about a fight over money where he considered walking but stayed.  That was it.  I knew that I couldn’t walk away from my guy just like my dad couldn’t walk away from my mom.

I got off the phone with my dad and climbed to the top of the bleachers and lay down.  I knew I wasn’t going to leave my guy, but I did not think that I could pull myself together to go with everyone to the wedding which was starting in four hours.  I was supposed to be getting a ride with my guy’s parents to the church since my guy was an usher.  I cried for another while and then fell asleep like a BUM on the bleachers.  Embarassing!  I snore and drool and talk in my sleep, so God knows what pedestrians thought as they saw the blubbering idiot sleeping on the top bench.  Anyhoo…while I was sleeping, I missed several phone calls.  Later on I pieced together this series of events:

First:  My guy comes home and finds that I am not there.  He calls his mom to see if I’ve spoken to her.  She hasn’t seen/heard from me so she calls me.  I don’t answer because I am sleeping on the bleachers.

Second:  My guy calls my dad to ask for my hand in marriage.  My dad having just gotten off the phone with me is nervously hesitant (so my dad), so he tells my guy to call back later when my mom was there.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!  That was my favorite part.  My dad calls my mom who is on her way home and explains the situation.  My mom calls me.  I don’t answer because I am sleeping on the bleachers.

Third:  My guy calls my parents again, and properly asks for my hand in marriage, my parents say yes.  He tells them that he intends on proposing to me at the reception that evening.  My mom is ferverently calling me to tell me to get home and get ready for the wedding.  I love my mom…Bad day or not, when you are being proposed to you go home and get your hair did.

Fourth:  I wake up, realize I have all these missed calls, and I don’t know what time it is.  I go home, and my guy buckles down and cries and tells me what I mean to him.  Upon hindsight, I kind of consider this our proposal moment because all the sweetest things he’s ever said come out here. 

Fifth:  We head to the wedding reception.  I AM OUT OF TIME AGAIN!  DAMNIT!  Have I mentioned that I hate working?  I swear, I’ll finish up this story properly tomorrow. 

Tune in, bitches.

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Limos are Outlawed…AKA How We Got Engaged…


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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