It’s Friday, December 5th, 2003.
The eighth anniversary of our first date had taken place on November 9th, but due to a case of the flu, an invasion of in-laws, then a second case of the flu, we were not able to celebrate the occasion until today.
Our plan is to celebrate our anniversary in our new house — we’ll pick up some delicious food and have a romantic dinner at home.
But, I know something that she doesn’t. I’ve decided that — after 8 years together – I am proposing to her after dinner.
I’m in the car in front of her office. She comes out the front door, gets in the car, and I start to drive away.
Then she says, “Oh shit. I forgot my purse.”
“Well, I’ll just drive back-”
“The door is locked. I need my card to unlock the door. The card which is in my purse.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘OH’. Just GREAT. All my makeup is in there. My wallet. Everything is in that purse. What a GREAT start to the weekend. Oh… this weekend is gonna SUCK!”
Ok, Jason, I think to myself, you can come back from this. So she’s forgotten her purse. It’s just a purse. She’ll let it go.
“So, sweetie — do you have anything special you want to have for our special dinner tonight?”
“I don’t care. This weekend sucks.”
“Ummm… well, would you like-”
“Just go to M&M. It’s fast. Stupid weekend.”
Ok, not as romantic as I planned, but I can make it work.
We get to M&M. I’m pointing out different choices to her, hoping to get her in the spirit of things.
“Oooo… French Onion Soup… how does that sound?”
“Just. Pick. Something. You’re. Pissing. Me. OFF. God! I HATE this weekend.”
I hustle to the counter, quickly pick out whatever is in the freezer directly in front of me, and get us out the door and head for home.
I can fix this. This is our anniversary. I’ll make it work. I’ll just romance the place up when we get home and she’ll get in the mood. I know! We can eat in front of the fire! That’s romantic! Yeah! This will work… this will work…
We get home. She heads for the stairs.
“Um… honey? Do you want me to move the table in front of the fireplace? Make the dinner more… romantic?” I smile.
“What? That’s stupid.” She heads upstairs.
Ok. So eating in front of the fire didn’t go over so good. I know! A glass of wine! She loves wine! I’ll get her some wine! I’ll get her a LOT of wine! I’ll even have a glass — it’ll be really romantic! You can do it… you can do it…
I put the food on to cook, open up a bottle of wine, and pour two generous glasses. I’m freaking out. This is it. This is the night that I am proposing. I’m making the biggest move of my life. This is the night that will define the rest of my entire life. The rest of both our lives. I want everything to be perfect.
And all she wants to do is hurt something.
Most likely me.
DON’T. PANIC.
She comes downstairs. In pyjamas. Flannel ones. She sits on the couch and turns on the TV.
“Sweetie? I’m going to set the table for our anniversary dinner, ok? Do you have any music you’d like to hear”
“What? Why are we going to eat in there? That’s stupid. We can just eat here on the couch. Like we always do. If I can’t have my purse, at least I’m going to have my TV.”
I quickly grab the wine glasses and sit hers in front of her on the coffee table. I take a gulp of mine.
She glares at me. “Why are YOU drinking wine? You NEVER drink wine.”
“Well… I sort of thought — you know — it’s a special occasion, so I should have a glass…”
“You never drink wine. That’s WEIRD.”
I head into the kitchen before she grills me too much. I finish getting the meal ready.
Ok. Ok ok ok ok… I can make this work. Maybe she just needs to watch some TV… let her relax. She’s grumpy, but a little TV can help her calm down. Oh crap ohcrapohcrapohcrap… calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean. I’m going to propose. I’ve GOT to propose. This is the night. I said I was going to do it at the anniversary dinner and I am GOING TO DO IT AT THE ANNIVERSARY DINNER. EVEN IF IT KILLS ME.
WHICH IS LOOKING VERY LIKELY AT THE MOMENT.
The dinner is cooked. I bring it out to the living room. She is watching TV. She looks at me watching her.
“WHAT?”
“Nothing.”
We eat. Charmed is on. I hate Charmed, but there is NO WAY that I am going to complain at this point in time. If she wants to watch Charmed — if Charmed is what makes her feel better — then by all that is right and holy, she is going to watch Charmed.
We finish eating.
Our anniversary dinner is over.
We are not in front of a fireplace. Romantic music is not playing. We are not toasting each other.
We are on the couch. She is still in an immensely foul mood. Charmed has just gone to a commercial break.
And I realise… I am not going to fix the night. This is as romantic as it is going to get.
And I still have to propose.
I look at her.
I stand up.
I kneel down next to her.
I say, “My Lovely Girlfriend… will you marry me?”
And she says, “WHAT? NO! YOU’RE JOKING?!?!”
I tell her no, I am not joking and yes, I really am proposing to her.
She looks at me…
… I have absolutely no idea what she is about to say…
… she opens her mouth to speak…
… and she says she’ll tell me when the show is over.
She sits back. I get back on the couch. Charmed comes back from commercial break. We watch the rest of the show. The show ends.
And she looks at me and she says, “Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”
And she smiles.
…
And in the end… her horrible weekend wasn’t so bad after all.
…
So on this day, the final day of a month of reasons I love my lovely wife, today’s reason I love My Lovely Wife is that she said, “Yes.”
…
Oh — and she lets me tell this story.
