Love is a beautiful thing – no matter if it’s the vanilla kind, the french vanilla kind, or rocky road ice cream kind so I thought I’d add in something funny today…
Okay, let me give you a bit of background.
We’re both in the military. He goes off to war (the first Persian Gulf) while I am just transferring from a ship (not the one he’s been on) to shore duty in Orlando, Fl to be what is best known as a Drill Instructor. We’d been dating off and on for about 4 yrs, which basically meant that we were ‘on’ when both in port together and ‘off’ when we deployed (that was a me-thing: 6 months is forEVER without sex and I wasn’t gonna ask him to be faithful because *I* sure wasn’t gonna be), but things changed by a strange twist of fate (another terrific story) and I finally realized that I was in love with this man.
So there I was visiting my family before going to Florida when he calls. Now, back then, it wasn’t like you could pick up a phone and call direct – nooooo. The ‘Radiomen’ on the ship transferred to a CB operator who connected to the next CB operator and so on, until it finally made it to me, which means you said what you needed to say, finished with “over”, and waited for it to get across country because of the lag.
After a little chitchat, he says, “You know what I’m going to ask you when I get back, right? Over.”
“Yes, and I’m very excited. Over.”
“Well, then, while I’m at it. Who picks out the ring? Over.”
OMG – He asked me – he doesn’t know! What a wonderful opportunity to clarify this – obvious – dilemma!!
“Why, I do, Baby. Over.”
Fast forward. He’s returned from war, getting out of the Navy, and coming to Orlando.
After checking out the bedroom to the apartment I’d recently gotten (another great story – the apartment, not the bedroom … well, the bedroom too but it’s the apartment story I’m thinking about), we pick up the ring. He looks at it, sees the price and then, nonchalantly, points to another ring … so not the one I wanted and I quickly think about how to get my way.
I shrug and nod. “I could go with that one, but I want you to think about this: We can get the one you are pointing to and, when I deploy (he wanted me to stay in and retire), guys are gonna look at my finger, see that ring, and say, ‘Hey baby, wanna go out?’ Ooooooor they will see this ring (points to the one I want) and say, ‘Oh, yer taken’”.
Okay – background complete – on to the restaurant where he’s supposed to propose to me ~ with the ring I chose.
It’s a fabulous place – to DIE for! A round building with levels of table seating’s along the wall, all looking down at a baby grand piano. We’re on the ground floor and when the piano isn’t playing, a violinist walks around.
I’m wearing a skin tight pencil skirt (oh, the days I could fit into those!) with a white button-up blouse and hair out to there (it’s the end of the 80s, don’tcha know?) and a sexy teddy underneath to show my appreciation for when we return to the apartment.
So the violinist is at the table right behind ours – we’re next! Oh, what perfect timing … right? – I mean, let’s not dwell on that moment the maître d’ came over, put a dollop of wine in his glass, and waited for him to give his approval and my darling-soon-to-be-husband frowned before chugging it and shrugging his okay … I mean, it’s not like he’s read as many romance novels as I have that clearly explain how one must smell, swirl, sip, and swish it around one’s pallet before allowing them to serve the lady.
Clearly, he’s just focused on his timing.
Yeah. So then, I am smiling and jittery when all of a sudden I hear, “So, I know you’ve been waiting for this.”
What? No! The violinist is still over …
“Jennifer (insert middle and maiden name), will you do the honor of marrying me?”
If you think this was funny – ask me about our wedding night.
429 total views, 91 views today