A Proposal to Remember...

It's been a bit of a joke that my fiancee and I have been doing things a little backwards. We were never officially engaged and yet set a wedding date, put a deposit on the photographer, and bought wedding rings. He mentioned long ago that he was planning on proposing on Christmas Eve, and although I knew it was coming, it still seemed like a distant dream, something that could be taken away. Yes, we were getting married...weren't we? We were in love...and we were sure we would make it, right?

The days before Christmas counted down slowly and my anticipation grew higher. He was planning on staying with my family for a few days during a snowstorm over the holidays, and I didn't see him grab the ring from its hiding place. I fell into the temptation and asked if he forgot something...and immediately hated myself for it. I mean, where is all the romance if I have to prompt it? I decided from then on, no matter what, I'd let him forget or remember, whatever would be would be, and I could just cry myself to sleep later.

So Christmas Eve stretches on. We're practically stranded in my parents' home, and he doesn't seem to be doing much besides playing computer games and watching tv. There's no sign of any romantic plan being hatched. No candles, no whispered plans with my parents, nothing. I've pretty much just given up on this whole thing and am keeping my disappointment to myself. So what if this is a moment I will only have once in my life, a moment that should have been planned and executed with all the romantic flair I dreamed about for over two decades?

I'm in the kitchen trying to find something to fix his attack of the munchies. He spots a bag of TGI Friday's Cheddar and Bacon Tato Skins over my shoulder and votes for those. I like them, too, so I grab an extra bag, cut it open, and join him on the couch. After a few minutes, the remnants of his bag are demolished and he nudges me.

"Tamara, will you share your chips with me?"

"Yeah." I hand over the bag.

"Tamara? Will you share something else with me?"

I raise my head, prepared to scoot over and grab my water bottle for him. As I look up, he pulls a familiar white leather box out of his pocket.

"Will you share your life with me?"

It's sweet, completely unlike how I had ever pictured it, and built around a bit of a pun (and kind of corny, too). I start crying.

"I love you, Tamara, with all my heart, and soul, and mind...hey, that's a song!"

Tears start rolling down my cheeks. He's distracted by a musical reference in the middle of his proposal. It's so like him. And I love him. More than I could ever imagine loving a man who thrills me, drives me crazy, and is completely devoted to me in all the ways that count.

Jerry reaches for my promise ring and begins tugging at it to replace it with my stunning diamond engagement ring. He tugs while murmuring how much he loves me, then looks at my hand with furrowed brows.

"Um, this isn't coming off."

I giggle a little and pull off my ring with an expert twist. He replaces it with my diamond and we seal my enthusiastic "Yes!" with a kiss.

Sometimes it's the person, not the plans, that makes it all worthwhile. It wasn't a fairy tale with him on one knee and me holding a dozen roses, but real life is about working with what you have--in this case, a quirky sense of humor and a $1 bag of potato chips from Dollar General. This proposal was unique, not cookie-cutter romance. Romance fades after a while--love, real love, the kind worth marrying over...it lasts forever.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to drag my fiancee's laptop out of his lap and really give him a good kiss for this very special, very lovely Christmas Eve night.