Will you marry me?

394 days ago, I woke up with an Itch!

Normally I would say that the itch was because she was not the type to take too many showers and God knows what type of insects she brought to bed with her. But that was a different kind of itch.

We had had great sex the night before. Amazing sex. Mind boggling, disturbingly good sex. It is amazing what phenomenal sex would do to the mind of an impressionable young man. It creates itches. That day the itch was to get married.

I spent the better part of two hours planning. Of course, I needed a ring, that one was easy, a quick visit to Tiffany’s would take care of it. Much more complicated was figuring out an original way to ask. It was my first time and it had to be perfect. None of the cheesy stuff like having violins or a mariachi band. I mean those damn mariachi only sing in spainishian and neither one of us speak a word of Spanian. Spanishan? Spainish? Spainian? Well what ever the damn language is, we don’t speak a word of it and I wasn’t about to have some random stranger with an Hercule Poirot moustache as her to marry me. As a man, there are things that you do yourself, in English.

So, I called our favorite restaurant and asked to speak to the chef. James came on the phone and I proceeded to explain to him that I wanted to insert my Tiffany’s ring into one of his world famous, delicious “fondant au chocolat”. That man, in his infinite wisdom asked me where I was planning to buy the ring from then proceeded to explain to me why inserting it in his signature desert was a bad idea:

1. Tiffany’s is a very expensive place and I could only afford the tiniest of rings. It would get swallowed. He then proceed to explain that the only way to recover my swallowed tiny Tiffany’s ring was to collect my exes shit for a week and search through it (Not the image I had in mind for a wedding proposal)

2. She could bite into it and loose a tooth. I didn’t want to spend my first post marriage proposal night at the dentist. I would have preferred another edition of the eye popping sex

3. It has been done before and it too cliché.

4. I couldn’t afford Tiffany gold and the silver doesn’t react well with the chocolate

As you can see, this guy turn the sea into hummus for me and made it almost impossible to proceed with the plan.

Then he proceeds to suggest that I insert it into a glass of champagne. Like THAT wasn’t cliché!!

So, I was in a bit of a conundrum (a big word specially researched for the benefit of Forsoothsayer), How would I ask her to marry me?

I went to Tiffany only to find out, to my dismay, that chef James was absolutely correct. I could only afford a ring so small that it would giver itches (her lack of showers didn’t really give her itches. After 27+ years of no showering except once a week, the skin adapts)

I paid for my tiny, itsy, bitty ring and went home. Called the ex and asked her to meet me at James’ restaurant. I got there early and asked James to be creative with the ring. He looked at it and asked if I wasn’t worried that she’s accidentally think it was a tiny earring. James think he is funny.

We sat at our favorite table, we drank our favorite wine, we had our favorite desert (fondant au chocolat) and after dinner, when everything was perfect, James came to the table to see if everything was ok and slipped the ring into my hand while whispering “Get on your knees”.

So, in front of James and the 200 people in the restaurant, I got on my knees, took her hand in mine and asked her, in my nicest voice, if she would marry me on her birthday the following week.

She said no.