It was February 2005, the week before Valentine's Day. Jesse and I had been dating for 7 months, and been seriously talking about marriage for at least 5 of those. I wasn't expecting a ring until at least summer, thanks to the costly addendum that is really an essential of every proposal story...
Jesse was living in Spokane, Washington (about 5 hours east of Seattle) and I was living in Bellingham going to school (about 2 hours north of Seattle). We saw each other every couple months, but it was rapidly becoming about every month. We just couldn't STAND to be apart!
Little did I know, Jesse was planning to come over Valentine's weekend and surprise me Friday night. He'd been planning this for quite some time, but had said he couldn't possibly get the weekend off work. Why would I buy the line? I can't even remember now - probably because I didn't yet realize what a sentimental buffoon he really is and that he wouldn't want to be apart on the weekend of Valentine's Day, whatever the cost...
And this trip was going to be a doozy. A really wham-bang to-do doozy... he was going to surprise me with a ring.
And then, just to demonstrate the kind of incoordinated-ness he would be stuck with the rest of his life, I got deathly sick the Monday before the Day. Sick like I didn't go to class the rest of the week, which is SHOCKINGLY TERRIBLE. (or so it would have seemed if I wasn't shaking and trembling with fever everytime I got up to eat some crackers or go to the bathroom. That put it into perspective for me, I think). Sick like I cried for my mommy. I whined and moaned pitifully to Jesse on the phone all week - COME SEE MEEEE before I DIIIEEE!! But the turkey insisted he couldn't get it off work all the way until Thursday night. He kept hoping against hope I would rouse myself out of bed and be miraculously well. I didn't. Friday came and he showed up.
I bawled. I hugged him. I collapsed from the effort of standing up. He still hadn't told me anything was up.
Saturday I was actually feeling better (oh love- what wonders it works) and we went for a walk here:Well, we went to the place where we took the picture - not the sunset itself. Although that's a nice story ending- they rode off into the sunset. I digress.
Then we went back to the apartment and he whipped up homemade manicotti (Wonderman) and cheesecake and salad and probably something else too, and I feebly ate it and then he proposed.
Sadly for him, once he got halfway through the proposal, he couldn't find the ring in his backpack. Yes, you read that right. He didn't have the ring with him. He forgot it.
Sadly for him, again, the best cover he could find on the spot, was that he must have forgotten my Valentine's day card... even more sadly for him, I was already on to him. It's not too hard to detect the beginnings of a proposal.
Happily for him, I gave him permission to continue ("Well, honey, if you want to... it's YOUR proposal...") Even more happily for him, I said yes, on the condition that he return the next weekend with my ring.
And that was the beginning of The Longest Engagement Ever. After Jacob and Rachel. (We were engaged a torturous 1.5 years.) And thus concludes my all-time favorite date-gone-wrong. I wonder if there's a way to convince Jesse that every date gone wrong should end with a new piece of jewelry...?
(And I'd post a picture of that evening but I don't have a scanner and I wasn't yet high tech enough to have a digital camera)...
But for your viewing pleasure:
Oh my Lord, he's a hottie... I better wipe the saliva from my face and work on some homework. I can think of a lot more fun things to do right now.
And go see Annie for more TTT!!