The Mrs. That Almost Stayed A Miss

Thank you to Amanda @It'sBlogworthy for the inspiration of this post. Though her story worked out to be a marriage proposal on bended knee at dawn on the beach, mine? Well, mine had destiny nervous for a few moments....


My not-as-of-yet husband and I had been dating for a bit over a year, and had yet to speak of marriage. This was fine with me, as he had made no promises nor given any hints regarding a possible future together, so I couldn't claim to be misled or disappointed. He just wanted to date, and he was a polite and affable enough fellow that that would be alright. He was: 1.employed 2. sober 3. bathed daily 4. practiced good oral hygiene 5. didn't have to purchase 2 airline tickets for himself when he flew. So, given all that, continued dating with no end in sight would be fine for the time being.

He had called to ask me out for dinner, it was my birthday, and I knew he'd have something special planned. At the time, he was traveling a lot, and our times together were mostly spent doing nice things at nice places with nice food. Oh, yes, those were the days...

Anyway, I knew he'd have a very nice dinner date planned, so I was anticipating a romantic, pleasant evening out. He was to pick me up at 6:30 p.m. As I waited for him, I thought of how I was ready to sit, and be wined and dined and flattered and toasted to.

He arrives, and his face has such a look of concentrated concern, as if he's lost something. He is also very quiet. I ask if everything is alright, he answers that it is, but doesn't do much else to assure me. He is 20 minutes late, which is unlike him, but not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot, I say nothing. But, it's not a good start. As I sit in the car, I tell myself I must nip this in the bud; he has to call if he's going to be late. Like I said, not a good start.

While he is driving, he is quiet the entire ride to the restaurant. I attempt conversation, but I feel as if I'm in the car with a coyote, being all I hear is "yup. yup. yup." in answer to any question I toss his way.

"Oh, well, perhaps he has had a rough trip," I think to myself. I don't know. I'm hungry, I have to go to work the next day, and I've got a really cute dress on, I just want to go out and eat and have a nice time and enjoy my birthday.

We arrive at the restaurant parking lot, he parks, and then asks me to wait outside of the car for a minute. Very odd request, he usually opens the door...I'm now at the point of making a mental list entitled "Possible Red Flags...get out while the gettin' is good."

I oblige him, and step out of the car and wait. I see him jostling around in his pockets and you don't want to know what I'm thinking. You just don't.

He then steps out of the car and begins to walk quickly, with the continual furrowed brow leftover from when he first picked me up. I walk along side him, and attempt to take his arm, which makes him jump 20 feet in the air. Okay...the mental list is now growing by leaps and bounds, and we are at bullet point #3.

I let his arm go and walk with him. We enter the restaurant, and his tone is quick and hushed with the hostess, and he asks me AGAIN to wait a bit of a ways away. What in the world is going on? I'm starting to make my Eddie Murphy faces now. He and the hostess whisper back and forth, we're shown to a table, and we sit. He keeps his hands in his pocket, I attempt to reach for his hand and he jumps again as if I'm giving him electric shocks.

He suddenly and abruptly gets up from his chair and says he needs to check something in the car. I have now entered "whatever" land. I can no longer enjoy my meal, and start thinking, "OK. nice guy and all, but I just can't see what is going on between us...I'll just cut my losses."

He returns, still with the hand in the pocket. We eat a silent dinner. I say it's time for me to get home early, work and all, and his just returning from a long trip. This surprises him. I think, "This can't be good. I can't believe he is HAVING A GOOD TIME??? You're kidding, right? ...this is SOOOOOO not a good sign." All I can see is red flags. Red flags all over the place.

He tells me he wants to drive to the lakefront. I agree, thinking this is the least I can do, seeing as this is the last time I'll be seeing him. We drive there, and the first thing I see is a white horse and buggy waiting. "Awww, this is so very sweet..." I say, knowing it must be my birthday treat. We climb in, I move to sit closely to him, and take his hand out of his pocket, in one last hopeful attempt to convince myself his madness is just a case of jet lag. No dice. He jumps out of his skin. Again. Alright, he's turned a bit "A Beautiful Mind" on me, that's alright...I can deal for a few more minutes. I'll be home soon, and then I know I'll have to give him "the call" tomorrow, for I'm on bullet point #7 at this time. I mentally prepare myself for the coming weekend of me by myself and Ben&Jerry's Death by Chocolate along with every single Love-gone-Wrong video I can rent from Blockbuster. It's not like I haven't had practice with those kinds of weekends before. I know I'll be alright.

He continues with his pocket patting fetish and I am ready to jump out of the horsecab by now, but it's going a bit too fast. It's also getting cold outside, kinda dark, too... so there's that. And I've got really pretty shoes on.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and try to save the evening by relishing the sound of the clip clop of the horse's shoes on the quiet street.

And this is where it gets even stranger than it's been all evening: he suddenly pulls out a small, white box. Just like that. With no announcement of  "I got you something." I see the small white box, "Earrings!" I think. "For my birthday! And I'll bet they're super nice, too!" on account of him being: 1.employed 2. sober 3.educated and 4. just returning from Europe.

I smile and take the little white box and snap it open it to see what beautiful golden hoops might be inside. But there are no golden hoops inside the box, because there is, instead, a beautiful diamond ring solitaire sitting in the middle of a black velvet cushion. A ring, in a box, where a pair of birthday earrings should be. I am looking at a single, solitaire diamond ring that I never even saw coming.

All the weirdocities of the night now quickly make sense. All the perverted pocket padding this poor man did to ensure the ring hadn't fallen out, all the up and down and walking ahead so he could check to be sure the ring was still in the pocket. The poor guy probably filled his underwear at least 5 times that night from all the planning and the stress. Poor thing.

The rest of my memory takes on a surreal cast. I remember staring at the ring in the moonlight (really..it was a full moonlit night) and being so very surprised, and marveling at all the planning and secrecy keeping and THE CHANCE he took. What a chance, we had never discussed marriage, I could've said no, it was a risk.

I asked him later, to tell me the reason he had decided to propose in that way, with me not suspecting a thing. His answer was "if you knew it was coming, where's the romance in that? I wanted you to be so surprised, whether you said yes or no, I wanted you to be surprised."

Which I was, in more than just receiving the ring, but in him, and who he was, and how he made this plan of marriage more than just a proposal, but a memory.

And this reason is why this picture exists, showing me as a Mrs., when earlier that birthday evening, I had thought that he would be returning me home, vowing to stay a Miss.



My response, through grateful tears of relief: "Oh, thank god, I thought you were crazy." Which is, kind of, a Yes.

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