So Monday night, due to some workplace angst, I was feelin' the need for some cheesy comfort food while Greg was at rehearsal. The only deep dish place doesn't deliver, so I went for the cheesy spinach artichoke dip and a salad from a southern place. Perhaps a bit too cheesy. Half the dip and 1/4 of the salad later I was in a world of hurt. By the time Greg got home at 10, I was out of the bathroom, but at the computer concentrating intently on a game of freecell 'cause it distracted from the stomach cramps while still being in immediate proximity of the loo. He was so informed.
I got the "Poor Schnoodle..." head stroke and then..."so would it make you feel a little less adrift if we were to get married?" Probing look. "Um, I'm good with the married, I just don't think feeling insecure is the reason to do it." "Well, of course that's NOT the reason, and I will ask again in a more traditional way, but I was thinking we should probably do it this year anyway..." We grinned, made a face and I went back to concentrating on ignoring the cramps.
Tuesday night we went to our regular pub for dinner, and over our cheddar burgers we talked some more and he officially proposed. No, no bended knee, no flowers, there was candlelight, but then the place is so dark you need the candles to read the menu.
My brother was appalled by the lack of romantic gesture...but really, the fact that he wanted to ask me to marry him even when I was in intestinal distress is better than flowers any day.
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