I'll admit it wasn't the most romantic proposal. Matter of fact, the Prom-posals at the school where I teach are more romantic and planned: 8 friends lined up to give roses to the blushing potential date finished with the boy asking the girl. But that is not my story. In my story, I visit my beloved once again on the weekend during our year-long distance relationship. We are at Brent's one-bedroom apartment on a Saturday evening in November having a very chill evening together. The frozen salisbury steak dinner is cooking in the microwave when I hear Brent call me into the bedroom. He is standing near his dresser and suddenly trusts a small box with a diamond ring in it in my direction. "Here," Brent says.
I am caught totally off guard. We've not talked about getting married much. We've not ring-shopped like some couples do. It is just some nondescript Saturday night in November like so many others that have come before it. The microwave dings.
"Are you proposing?" I ask incredulously. "Are you going to get down on one knee? Are you going to say the words? You need to do it right," I demand. So he does. Moments later he seems relieved as I burst an enthusiastic "yes!"
The salisbury steak tastes particularly wonderful this night.
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