Tiramisu!
Tomorrow marks the two year anniversary of Jeff's marriage proposal.
<<insert Blurry Traveling Back in Time Memory Love Music here>>
When Jeff arrived home from work that evening, I had prepared a meal of couscous and corn. (It was Food That Starts With a C night at our apartment.) Anyway, he stumbled into the kitchen and told me that he had almost been in a car accident on his way home and needed to go out for a drink. He was shaking, and seemed to be upset about whatever had happened on the road.
Me: What do you want me to do with the couscous?
Jeff: Can we have it some other time?
Me (suddenly annoyed, since he never NEEDS to go out for a drink): Fine.
With that, I pissedly dumped the couscous down the sink and grabbed my coat. He suggested we go to Torino's--the Italian place down the street from the apartment.
Waiter: May I take your drink order?
Jeff: I'll have an iced tea.
Me (to myself, of course): What the hell happened to "I need to go out for a drink"?! Oh my God. He's turning this into our Valentine's Day date, since he hates fighting the normal Valentine's Day crowd! Damnit! This better be one hell of a meal.
So, we ordered our pasta, and Jeff acted a bit strange and uncomfortable throughout the meal.
Jeff (who never wants to split a dessert): Do you want to split a dessert?
Me (wondering what the hell is happening): Sure. Tiramisu?
When the dessert came, Jeff reminded me that we had been living together in Nashville for approximately twelve months. He suggested we make a tiramisu toast to the past year. I had a sinking feeling that he was about to break up with me.
Me: This year has been great. I'm glad you're living with me and that I'm not pregnant and that neither of us has yucky habits involving dead skin cells or dirty underpants. Cheers.
Jeff: I think the past year has been great, and I'm looking forward to more.
With that he dropped to one knee, pulled a ring out of his pocket, and proposed. My hand flew up to my mouth, and the woman at the next table began to cry. (She later sent a bottle of wine to our table. Red! And fruity!) It was the perfect beginning to the rest of our life.
And, amazingly enough, every day is better than the day before. (And I'm happy to say that we still do not have any yucky habits involving dead skin cells or dirty underpants.)
Cheers.
